#maybe I’ll find a companion and that’s okay too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 5 months ago

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Puppy Love

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you’re definitely not jealous of the tiny sausage dog who seems to take up every second of your boyfriend’s attention … but it sure feels nice when Leo decides he’s a mama’s boy and Charles gets a taste of his own medicine

You stroll into the spacious living room, eyes narrowing as you spot Charles sitting on the couch, a tiny dachshund puppy curled up contentedly on his lap. “Charles … what is that?”

He looks up with a sheepish grin. “Surprise! Meet Leo, our new puppy.”

You shake your head slowly. “Our puppy? I don’t recall agreeing to get a dog.”

Charles scratches Leo’s velvety ears, eliciting a blissful tail thump. “I know, I know. But look how cute he is! I couldn’t resist.”

Crossing your arms, you try your best to seem stern despite the puppy’s heart-melting adorableness. “We haven’t even discussed this. A dog is a huge responsibility.”

“I’ve thought it through,” Charles insists. “Leo is the perfect breed for our lifestyle — small, low maintenance, and they make amazing companions.” He holds the drowsy pup up with a beseeching expression. “How can you say no to this face?”

You bite your lip, wavering. The puppy really is criminally cute with his soulful eyes and ridiculously long body. “Well … I suppose we could give it a trial run,” you concede. “But you’re taking care of him.”

Charles beams. “Deal! You’ll fall in love, I promise.” He sets Leo back on his lap, rubbing the puppy’s belly. “Who’s the best boy? You are!”

Watching them bond, a prickle of jealousy stirs in your chest. Is this what you signed up for — playing second fiddle to a canine?

Over the following days, Charles is utterly smitten, devoting every spare moment to Leo. He takes the pup everywhere, cooing over him incessantly and showering him with treats and toys. Meanwhile, you often find yourself … ignored.

“Charles? Are you listening?” You frown as he doesn’t respond, too busy dangling a chew rope just out of Leo’s reach in a teasing game.

You huff out a sigh. “I guess I’ll just make dinner for one then.”

Finally, he glances up with a distracted, “Hmm? Sorry, what was that?”

Throwing up your hands, you stalk into the kitchen, simmering with a childish sense of being replaced in your boyfriend’s affections. Stupid dog ...

A few nights later, you’re getting ready for bed when Charles appears in the doorway, Leo tucked under one arm like a furry purse. “Hey, I need to run out for a bit. Can you keep an eye on Leo?”

“What? Why?” You pause in the middle of removing your makeup.

Charles grimaces. “ I … may have waited until the last minute to get his puppy pads and food refilled.”

You groan. “Fine, I’ll watch him. But just this once!”

“You’re the best, thank you!” Charles drops a kiss on your cheek before setting Leo down with a stern, “Be good for your maman, okay?”

He dashes out, leaving you staring at the puppy sitting innocently in the middle of the bedroom floor. Leo blinks up at you, tiny tail wagging.

For a long stretch, you simply regard each other in silence. Then, hesitantly, you sink down to sit cross-legged. “Well? What am I supposed to do with you?”

Leo waddles over, sniffing at your knee before clambering into your lap with surprising determination for such a little guy. You tense, unsure what to do as he turns in a few circles and settles with a contented sigh, warm weight pressing against you.

Huh … he’s actually kind of cuddly.

Tentatively patting his silky fur, you admit, “I can see why Charles likes you so much.”

Leo’s only response is a sleepy snuffle, lashes fluttering shut. Despite yourself, you can’t resist smiling at how peaceful he looks, tiny paws twitching as he dreams. Maybe this dog thing won’t be so bad.

That notion lasts until Leo startles awake with a high-pitched yelp, legs scrambling as he leaps off your lap and takes off running. “Leo? Leo!” You give chase, wincing as his claws skitter across the hardwood in his panic.

Finally, you catch up to him quivering under the living room sofa. “Oh no, it’s okay!” You stretch out on the floor, clicking your tongue soothingly. “Come here, little guy. I’ve got you.”

Leo whimpers, but after a few tense minutes of coaxing, he creeps out just enough for you to scoop him up. You settle back against the couch with him bundled in your arms, murmuring reassurances as he trembles.

“Shhh, you’re safe … good boy ...” You press a tender kiss between his floppy ears, stroking him until his quaking fades to contented wriggles. As your apprehension melts away, a fierce protectiveness blossoms in your chest. This precious little soul is yours to care for now.

When Charles returns, he pauses in the hallway, tilting his head quizzically at the sight of you reclined on the sofa with Leo completely passed out on your stomach. “Having fun over there?”

You glance down at the slumbering puppy with a soft smile. “Actually … yeah. I think Leo and I are going to be just fine.”

A delighted grin spreads across Charles’s face. “I knew you two would hit it off!”

Over the ensuing weeks, you find yourself increasingly enamored with your four-legged child. Leo shadows your every step, bouncing around underfoot until you inevitably scoop him up to snuggle close. You start pushing all the throw pillows together to create a special nest for him on the couch. Charles teases that you’re getting a little carried away with spoiling the pup rotten.

“Oh, hush,” you retort without any real bite, nuzzling Leo’s plush cheek. “My baby deserves nothing but the best, isn’t that right?”

“Baby?” Charles arches an amused brow. “I think someone’s going overboard.”

You stick out your tongue, cuddling Leo closer with a playful glare. “Don’t listen to your papa. He’s just jealous of our bond.”

“Hey, I’m not the one treating him like a literal infant!” Charles laughs, reaching over to ruffle Leo’s ears. But the puppy twists away with a protesting whine, burying his face against your neck.

Charles pauses, brow furrowing in a brief flicker of hurt. You think nothing of it until the same thing happens again at dinner … and on your evening walk around the block … and at bedtime when Leo kicks up a fuss about sleeping in his own bed instead of yours.

“Leo, come on!” Charles groans in frustration when the puppy darts under the dresser instead of coming to him. “What’s with you lately?”

He shoots you an aggrieved look, ruffling a hand through his tousled waves. “Ever since you started carrying him everywhere, he won’t leave your side. You’ve turned my own dog against me!”

You shrug innocently, scratching behind Leo’s silky ear when he peeks out to flash you an adoring gaze. “I can’t help it if he knows who his favorite parent is.”

“Favorite parent?” Charles splutters. “That’s my dog you’re talking about!”

You gasp in mock offense, gathering Leo up to press a loud smacker against his fuzzy head. “Don’t listen to him, baby! Papa’s just grumpy because I’m better at cuddles.”

Charles narrows his eyes at the giggling puppy now practically swimming in your embrace. “Is that so? We’ll see about that.”

He swoops in to snatch Leo away, cradling the squirming pup against his chest. “Who’s the favorite, huh? I’m the one who picked you out, you little traitor.”

But Leo simply strains back towards you, pawing at Charles’ arm with distressed whimpers until you take him back. He immediately settles with a contented sigh, licking your chin gloatingly as Charles gapes.

“Oh, that is war ...” Your boyfriend mutters, stalking away with hunched shoulders.

You blink after him in confusion before shrugging it off in favor of cooing over the dachshund. “Did mean old Papa try to take you from Mama? Don’t worry, sweetie, I won’t let him.”

From that point on, a constant battle for Leo’s affections rages between you and Charles. He’ll try enticing the puppy with treats or toys, only for Leo to bypass them entirely in favor of your open arms. You can’t help but preen victoriously every time Leo cuddles into your embrace with a sigh of pure bliss.

“You’ve turned him against me!” Charles bemoans one evening as Leo dozes contentedly on your lap, stubbornly ignoring the tennis ball being waved enticingly in front of his nose. “What’s a guy got to do to get some puppy love around here?”

You smirk, idly stroking Leo’s velvety ears. “Guess he just prefers spending time with his one true love.”

“Yeah, yeah ...” Charles grumbles, but you catch the fond curl of his lips as he watches you fawning over the pup. He flops down beside you with a theatrical groan. “Unbelievable. Replaced in my own home by a hairy sausage.”

You gasp in mock outrage. “Don’t call my baby such things!” Scooping up Leo, you pepper his fuzzy face with smooches until he squirms happily. “Did you hear what Papa said about you? He’s just jealous!”

“I am not jealous!” Charles protests, even as his gaze tracks the gentle way you cradle the puppy. There’s a wistful edge to his voice when he murmurs, “Remember when you used to look at me like that?”

You pause, registering the plaintive note. Slowly, you shift Leo into the crook of one arm so you can reach out and cup Charles’ cheek with your free hand, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “Aww, my poor baby,” you tease gently. “Don’t worry — there’s enough love to go around for both of you.”

Charles leans into your touch with a huff, darting eyes betraying how much he misses your undivided attention. “I’m starting to doubt that.”

“Well then, let me remind you ...” You lean in until your lips are a hair’s breadth from his, holding his gaze as you murmur, “I happen to have the world’s biggest, most annoyingly persistent crush on this one race car driver.”

A shiver ripples through Charles, his breath catching. Before he can respond, you close the scant distance in a searing kiss, lips molding hot and desperate as you pour every ounce of adoration into the embrace. Leo gives a disgruntled squeak at being squished between your bodies, quickly wriggling free to skitter off with an offended sniff.

You hardly notice, too busy mapping the contours of Charles’ mouth with hungry sweeps of your tongue, muffling his delicious groans by deepening the kiss. By the time you finally break apart, you’re both left panting harshly, gazes locked in a blissful haze.

“Still think I only have eyes for the dog?” You rasp, relishing the way Charles’ pupils are blown wide.

He swallows thickly. “You make a … convincing argument.”

“Mmm, I try.” You lean in to nip at his kiss-swollen lower lip with a sly grin. “But I’m more than happy to keep making my case ...”

Charles growls low in his throat, hauling you forward until you’re properly straddling his lap, bodies flush. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Breathless laughter spills from your lips as he surges up to capture them once more, hands roaming eagerly over your curves. In that heated moment, the puppy is forgotten as you pour all your focus into worshiping each other, affections firmly realigned.

Well … until a tiny bark sounds from nearby, followed by indignant grumbling and the patter of tiny paws. You reluctantly break the steamy kiss, rolling your eyes fondly as Leo hops up onto the couch to shove his way between the two of you.

“Easy there, troublemaker,” you chuckle, stroking the puppy’s silken fur as he clambers between you and Charles, yipping happily now that he has both his humans’ full attention. “See, baby? I told you there was enough love for all of us.”

Charles chuckles ruefully. “It’s a good thing he’s cute.”

You grin, leaning in to rest your forehead against his as Leo snuggles down with a contented sigh. In this perfect cocoon of warmth and adoration, you can’t imagine anything better.

And if the three of you stay snuggled up on that couch long into the evening, trading lingering kisses and delighted giggles as Leo’s little tail thumps happily … well, no one has to know.

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

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pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started. Joel clears his throat.

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult."

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips.

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person.

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it.

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs.

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!"

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees.

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?"

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree.

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover.

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire.

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize. You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks.

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off.

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway.

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark.

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window.

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop.

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.”

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary.

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half.

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating.

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head.

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?”

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave.

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.”

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you.

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest.

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space.

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves.

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin.

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says.

“From what?”

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him.

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap.

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel.

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask.

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says.

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room.

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back.

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands.

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel.

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully.

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm.

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael.

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night.

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships.

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down.

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips.

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish.

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses.

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #dark content #cult leader!joel miller #cw age gap #cw dubcon #cw age difference #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark joel miller

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monotonesmile · 18 days ago

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Hi can request Rise Leo x fem reader?

I'm thinking the reader can be mutant turtle red ear mix diamond back if that's okay? and it can be mix of silly and romance because on beginning maybe compared him and her and joking there twins and slowly changed he falls for her and reader feels the same way and he tells her how he feels?

Oh to be a turtle in love.

[Leo X Fem!Turtle!Reader]

[Word Count: 3,040]

[Warnings: Swearing, Minor violence, Possibly OOC Leo?]

——————————————————————————

“Well would ya look at that!” She laughs a little, hopping down from the rooftop she was originally perched on, landing in front of the two turtle brothers. “We’re practically twins!” She leans slightly forward towards the other red eared slider who looked almost as ecstatic as she is, pointing between the two of them with a smirking grin.

“Hell yeah, we’re twinning with the stripes!” Leo grins enthusiastically, practically radiating excitement at meeting another turtle mutant of his same species. “We look good!” His grin turns smug as he compliments himself and this other turtle mutant, crossing his arms.

“Leo, you know you aren’t actually twins with this girl, right?” Donnie speaks up from behind him with an exhausted voice, trying to remind Leo that he isn’t related or twins with this girl, just wanting to continue their patrol instead of talking to another mutant, unfortunately for the softshell turtle, he’s ignored by both his twin and the stranger.

“Yeah, yeah, got it, Don…” Leo mutters as he waves Donnie off, focused on the turtle in front of him as they talk very animatedly together. Donnie groans as he rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he turns and walks off to rejoin their brothers to continue their patrol through Manhattan.

“Hey, uh, what’s your name by the way?” Leo tilts his head as the two have started to walk across the rooftops of the city below, Leo has his arms crossed behind his head, looking over at the other mutant as he asks his question. “I’m Leonardo, but you can just call me Leo or you could call me yours.” He grins smugly as he winks at her.

“Oh right! Names Y/N, nice to meet ya, Leo.” She returns his grin with one of her own, sharp teeth on display as she balances on the side of a rooftop, tilting her own head at him as she winks back, matching the young turtle's energy, snickering at the pick up line he used.

They continue their conversation throughout the night, traversing the rooftops as they talk to each other in an animated and excitable manner, enjoying the company of the other turtle, the moon slowly starting to set in front of them signals how long they’ve been out there, many hours spent just talking and sharing stories, it unfortunately does mean Leo has to leave back to the sewers where his brothers are likely waiting for him, albeit probably very impatiently given that he just abandoned their patrol.

“Ah, great it’s gonna be morning soon,” Leo sighs disappointedly, frowning as their time is coming to an end due to the rotation of earth. “I’ve gotta get going, see you around?” He looks over at his newfound companion, preparing to leave back to a manhole cover to escape daybreak.

“A pity ya gotta go so soon,” She practically pouts at the news that he has to leave but perks up at the question of seeing each other again. “You know it! I’ll be on the lookout for ya, Leo. Can’t just abandon my twin from another mother.” Her pout is replaced by an amused grin as she nods while crossing her arms.

“Good, I’ll keep an eye out for you too, see ya Y/N!” Leo’s disappointment is almost instantly eradicated when she agrees to see him again, a wide grin spreading across his beak as he gives a mock salute before hopping off the rooftop into the alleyway below.

——————————————————————————

It’s been a few nights since the two actually saw each other, and Leo has been trying to find her each time he and his siblings go on patrol, trying to find a glimpse of the turtle mutant so close to him.

He’s unsuccessful the first few nights but one night, he catches a glimpse of green and red, following it, he finds the same mutant as before.

“Y/N!” Leo calls out to her, causing her to turn and look, hearing the sound of her laughter filling the night air once she sees the red eared slider. Leo stumbles over himself for a second as he runs over to her, skidding to a stop in front of her with an enthusiastic smile.

“Told ya we’d see each other again!” She grins as he comes to a stop in front of her, hands on her hips as her tail wags excitedly behind her, both turtles excited to see the other after a few nights apart even after just getting to know each other.

“And here I was thinking I’d be all lonely again.” Leo snickers as he pouts playfully at his companion, her laughter making him feel lighter for some reason unknown to him, his tail wagging in tandem with hers.

“Oh, pouting now, ain’t ya meant to be a great ninja or something?” Her grin turns into a playful smirk, teasing him as they stand atop a rooftop, the moonlight shining down around them, making a sort of ethereal glow.

“Oh shush you,” Leo chuckles as he rolls his eyes at her playful remark towards his pout, the pout vanishing at her teasing as he fights a smile. “Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” He snapped out of his playfulness as he looks back at her with a more curious gaze.

She tilts her head at him, waiting for him to ask his question as she crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one leg.

“What’s up with the spots, I don’t have those, only stripes.” Leo gestured to the spots speckling her green skin alongside the similar stripes to his own.

“Oh! Right, I’m a mixed breed or a hybrid of two turtle species, guess I forgot to tell ya that, huh?” She straightens her head back up as she answers his question, chuckling at her own forgetfulness, it’s easy to forget that she doesn’t just have stripes but also spots and speckles.

“Really? What species?” Leo is now even more curious about her as he learns more and more about her, the two starting to walk across the rooftops like they did when they met.

“Red eared slider and a Diamondback terrapin! Neat, ain’t it?” She grins at him as she keeps pace with the ninja beside her, happy to have a new friend who’s equally as curious about her as she is to him.

“Seriously? That’s so cool! Kinda wish I was a hybrid now, imagine that.” Leo perks up at the two species names she gave, a matching grin spreading across his face as well, a thoughtful expression following as he thinks about what’d it be like if he was a hybrid like her. “Guess I can call ya, Speckles? Or Spots?” He snickers once again as he attempts to find an appropriate nickname for her.

“Or you could call me yours?” She hums as she reuses the line he used on her when he had to leave a few nights ago, hopping onto the next rooftop with Leo following shortly after.

“Hey! That’s my line!” Leo gasps dramatically at her using his own pickup line against him, placing a hand dramatically on his chest, feigning a dramatic pose and faintness. “I’m so hurt by this.”

“Oh dear, I’ve beaten the mighty ninja without even laying a hand on him, how the mighty have fallen.” She rolls her eyes as she grins, a laugh escaping her, her shoulders shake from her laughter, sharp teeth catching the moonlight.

Leo blinks, looking up at her from his dramatic pose, the sight causing his heart to skip a beat, watching her laugh and actually enjoy his company makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, silently admiring the girl in front of him with an unknown emotion in his heart, he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling but he’s definitely not against it.

——————————————————————————

It’s been a few weeks since the two actually met, Leo is still trying to figure out this weird emotion he’s feeling and he’s refusing to ask his brothers, or god forbid, his father, about it. As usual, he’s trying to figure this out on his own, spending hours of the time he usually uses to sleep just staring at the ceiling of his room thinking to himself.

Although right now he’s trying to focus on a different problem, some mutant silverfish have been spotted causing problems at the park, so Leo, against his better judgment, brought her along with him, mainly because he’ll find any excuse to flex his awesome ninja skills.

Leo can hear her cheering him on from the sidelines, making him more confident and cocky, he can spot her chilling on top of some playground equipment, one leg crossed over the other as she’s grinning while watching him fight some silverfish. He’s doing quite well too, he is trained for this after all, throwing out some puns and jokes as he’s fighting, hearing her laugh from the sidelines, making him smirk.

And then he freezes as his eyes widen at the next words that come from her.

“You go, babe!” She cheers from her spot atop the plastic roof of a playground building, tail thumping against the colorful plastic beneath her.

Leo has the sudden realization of what he’s feeling, his heart pounding against his chest as she calls him “Babe”, his entire body feeling warm and light, a flush of red spreading across his face, standing out against his green skin, he’s in love.

The next thing he feels though is the sensation of a silverfish tackling him and clawing at him before it bolts alongside the other mutants, he could faintly hear her curse and hop down from where she was seated, he blinks, just staring up at the starry night sky above them, so many thoughts rushing through his head.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you!” She winces as she helps him sit up, looking over the scratches inflicted by the silverfish from before, grimacing slightly at the sight. “God, I’m so sorry…I’ll help patch ya up.” She doesn’t even notice the look of pure adoration he’s giving her as she’s gently cleaning the scratches with a disinfectant rag from the medkit she started to carry after a few times witnessing Leo and his brothers fighting villains.

Leo can only look at her with a wide eyed expression, finally able to recognize the affection he feels for her, a soft blush blooming across his cheeks as she’s muttering apologies while helping patch himself up, his expression slowly softening into a soft smile, looking at her with nothing but adoration and love, she’s shown nothing but kindness and understanding to him, she understands his jokes, she enjoys their time together, she’s even helping him with his injuries, she’s perfect to Leo.

——————————————————————————

Leo has been hyping himself up ever since the incident in the park, trying to hype himself up so he can confess to Y/N, waiting for her on their rooftop, the one they met on, fidgeting with his hands as a blush is coating his cheeks despite him so desperately wanting it to go away so he doesn’t get even more flustered than he already is.

“Nardo!” She calls to him as she leaps the gap between the two buildings, grinning at him as she walks over to him, Leo having turned once she called him, unfortunately blushing more at the nickname even though it’s one used fairly often.

“H-Hey, how’ve you been?” Leo is internally cursing at himself from stuttering and asking such a mundane question, tucking his hands behind him so she can’t see his fidgeting, trying to maintain his normally cocky and confident posture and demeanor.

“Been good, slow week, huh?” She chuckles, either not noticing or ignoring the stutter much to Leo’s relief, crossing her arms.

“Mhm…uh, so, I’ve been wanting to tell you something all week.” Leo starts, taking a deep breath as he prepares himself for his confession, his voice taking on a softer and quieter tone as he glances away from her.

“What’s up?” She tilts her head, raising a brow ridge at the slider in front of her, shifting her stance a bit.

“Well, I want to say this first, no matter your decision, I still want to be friends…!” Leo rushes that bit out as his nerves are starting to get to the usually cocky turtle.

“Ok?” She mutters with a slightly concerned and confused expression, not knowing what Leo is going to say to her for him to have to say that.

“Ok, we’ll I’ve realized something and that’s-“ Leo starts only to get interrupted. “Leo! Cmon, we have to patrol!” His younger brother, Mikey calls for him, his two other brothers approaching the rooftop as well.

Leo frowns, silently seething as his confession is interrupted by his brothers, his blush having yet to disappear from his face, he also notices that her attention is taken away by Mikey running over to her to excitedly tell her something Leo doesn’t really pay much attention to, he’s just upset his confession was ruined.

“Why are you pouty?” Donnie questioned, raising an eyebrow at his twin as he walks over to him, Raph is following behind his younger brother.

“Better question, why are ya blushing? You like ‘er or something?” Raph grins, teasing Leo as he already pieced together what’s happening with his younger brother.

“Shut up.” Leo huffs, crossing his arms as he watches Y/N and Mikey speak about something or another, silently admiring the way she can get along with his siblings as well, Leo can hear his brothers snickering behind him but his attention is on her, sighing as he has to confess another day.

——————————————————————————

Today was supposed to be the day Leo confessed but of course something had to interrupt him, again!

“Y/N, I’ve been trying to tell you all week but I-“ Leo is once again interrupted by someone much to his growing irritation, this time it was one of the villains breaking into the mall nearby, meaning Leo has to go and deal with that now.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Leo grumbled to himself as he and Y/N arrived at the scene, finding the Footclan trying to find something, likely a piece of Shredder’s armor, but Leo can stop them before that happens, hopefully.

“Eh, you got this, Leo, I believe in ya!” She smiles at him as he goes to confront the Foot, which only makes him blush again, flustering him.

“I’ll deal with this and then we can go back to what we were doing!” Leo grins confidently at her despite the thudding of his heart in his chest from her support and smile, turning back to the Foot as he heads over to confront them.

“You go get ‘em, babe.” She mutters quietly as she watches the confrontation turn to a fight, staying put as she cheers Leo on from the sidelines as she does during every fight, feeding his confidence but also his flusteredness.

Leo truly appreciates the support but he can’t help but get flustered as she continues to call him “Babe” and cheer him on, a blush staining his face as he fights some Footclan recruits, inexperienced and new to their ninja clan, making it easy for Leo to win against them, taking his mind off his failed confessions momentarily as he’s basks in the glory of his victory.

——————————————————————————

Leo has had it with the interruptions, he is confessing whether it’s the last thing he does or not! He cannot deal with bottling up these emotions anymore, it is painful to watch her laugh and smile knowing that he’s not hers and she’s not his.

“Y/N!” Leo practically yelled her name, making the poor girl jump as they’re watching the stars on their rooftop, seeing her look over at him with a bewildered expression.

“Y…yeah?” She mutters very confusedly, looking at Leo and then off to the side before back to him, tilting her head slightly when he looks over at her with the dumbest yet most determined face she’s ever seen him pull.

“Y/N, I love you. A lot, I realized I loved you when you called me babe back at the park when I was fighting those mutant silverfish, and you’re just so nice and you actually understand me! Plus you get along with my brothers, you’re sassy and joke around with me, but you’re always there when I need you and I just…I love you so much, and I understand if you don’t love me back.” Leo finally managed to get everything he needed to say out, taking a deep breath afterwards, looking away from her as he suddenly grows increasingly shy, blushing even harder than he ever has before.

She blinks at him, her eyes widening as she processes his words, pausing as she thinks back on the past few weeks, now noticing the signs of Leo wanting to confess but always ending up interrupted by something or someone, unfortunately her long silence makes Leo believe she does not feel the same as he gets up from his spot, dusting himself off hastily.

“Well, uhm, I’ll be going now, uh…b-bye.” Leo mutters as he turns and tries to dash away, flustered and embarrassed at his own actions and feelings, only getting one step before he’s hugged from behind, making him freeze in place. “Uhm…?”

“Me too…I…feel the same way, Leo.” She murmured, a soft blush decorating her cheeks as well, not as bright as his but it’s still very obvious.

Leo turns back around, facing her with a surprised expression. “Wait, wait, really?” He grabs her shoulders, pulling her back just enough to see her face as she subtly nods with a soft, embarrassed expression.

Leo though, he could not be more happy, a wide, happy grin spreads across his face as he wraps his arms around her in return, practically picking her up off her feet as he emits a quiet churr, the moonlight shining down upon them as they hug, their feelings now known to be shared, a new story laid out before them, waiting to be explored.

They were finally together, in love, happy and safe.

——————————————————————————

(AHH, i'm so sorry this took a bit to write, I got stuck for a bit and took a break, but I hope you enjoy this, i'm sorry if it feels rushed!)

[My requests are open!]

#monofics!#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leo x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise leo #unpause rottmnt #tmnt leonardo #rottmnt leonardo #leonardo hamato #leo x reader #tmnt leo #tmnt leo x reader

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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

Text

Honey

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 3.2k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: The first time there was an excuse, the second time was just about release. (If you’ve read the other stories, this would take place after Monsters/Teeth in the timeline. Have a little smut fic to make up for all the angst I’ve been writing.)

Warning: Explicit sexual content (18+ Minors DNI) “ With just a little taste of wasting time Looking for honey But she stings like she means it She's mean and she's mine “ It’d been a hard day.

The vehicle they’d manage to steal from the survivalist’s cabin didn’t last long. For all that group had worked and prepared their fortress, they hadn’t kept up with the maintenance on the car and it had crapped out after a couple of days, even driving slowly. They were back to walking, the dream of quickly getting to Wyoming vanishing. They’d hit a town that had seemed mostly empty, but there’d been a pocket of infected that had swarmed. It was pure luck that there had been no Clickers, only Runners, but it’d been a close call. Now they were holed up on the second floor of a shop, Joel having barricaded the stairs leading up to it and securing the whole floor while she helped set up for the night. They were exhausted and Ellie was a little extra quiet, rubbing her eyes and using some of the water they managed to get out of the pipes into a bucket to scrub out the blood off her jacket. She was still covered in it too, feeling it stick and crust to her neck and cheek, her hands. Joel sat down and they all ate out of cold cans in silence, only the clink of their spoons breaking the gloom. “Those runners…they were newer infected, weren’t they?” Ellie said gloomily. She sighed and Joel chewed slowly, looking up at the teen from beneath a furrowed brow, “They were most likely a group passing through. Got bit and all of them turned. The newer ones tend to be the fastest.” Ellie hummed thoughtfully and shrugged, “Maybe that means there’s not many infected left here if they were the only ones to come out? That mean we’re safe up here?” “Or they’re trapped inside the buildings,” she responded, not wanting to kill her hope but also being realistic, “But we’ll hear if anyone comes in and the barricade should delay them. We’re safe enough.” The young girl nodded and sighed, finishing her food and setting the can aside, “Okay…I’m gonna go to bed. I’m tired.” She sent her a soft “goodnight” and finished her food quietly, the light of the lantern between them all that was lighting the room. She was still wired from the fight, sleep not finding her any time soon. Without saying a word to her companion, she stood and went over to the bucket and picked it up before walking a little bit away to one of the mirrors the store had hanging on the far wall. Clothing racks and shelves were toppled everywhere, moth eaten rags hanging from them and trash littering the ground. She pulled over a cement block nearby and sat on it near the mirror, grabbing a rag off the rack and dipping it into the water. It wasn’t safe to drink but they could at least use it to clean up. The mirror was stained and dirty, foggy from years of neglect and exposure to whatever was in the air. She couldn’t see her reflection fully but could see enough to try and clean the crusted blood off her skin. It came off in flakes from her hands, blood and dirt leading way to clean skin. Boots walked towards her and she paused, looking up as Joel joined her along the shadowed wall, face always that tilted down frown and furrowed brow. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked at the water and rag before grabbing another cement block and scooting it in front of her, “Here. You can’t see shit in that thing, I’ll do it.” They hadn’t spoken about that night in the cabin. That night when he’d came and joined her on the floor, has slipped his fingers into her to help her relax and then fucked her into the ground. They’d woken up and went on like it never happened and hadn’t changed a thing. But something was different. They both felt it and didn’t want to acknowledge it. She knew he’d keep bugging her until she gave in so she handed him the rag with a roll of her eyes, turning to face him, their knees pressed together. He took it and dipped it into the water then his calloused fingers held her chin, holding it in place as he passed the rag over her cheek. They didn’t speak, didn’t even make eye contact, but there was a tension suddenly there the moment his skin touched hers. He was being gentle and it unnerved her because Joel was never gentle. Especially not with her. They were at each other’s throats constantly, Ellie being their only glue together. “You shouldn’t have used your knife on those,” he grunted and the sound wrapped around her in the darkness, “Too easy to get bit. If you had ran I coulda shot them.” “Bullets are a bit valuable nowadays, Tex, and I had it handled,” she bit out as he turned her face the other way to get the blood under her ear, “Using the knife conserves bullets.” “It’s not gonna conserve anything if I have to put one in your head because you got infected,” Joel hissed and his fingers pressed a little harder into her skin to emphasize the point. The pressure on her skin sent tiny sparks through her and her heart beat a little faster, his touch and smell all around her not helping at all. “Well if that happens you can say I told you so,” she rolled eyes and tried to not to focus on the slow drag of the cloth as it moved down her neck. Abruptly, he jerked her forward and her hands had to brace on his thighs to keep from toppling onto him. His fingers dug into her chin hard enough she wondered if it would bruise later on, his eyes dark and searing into her even covered by shadows. “Or you can fucking be careful and listen to me,” he growled, breath coasting along her face from his proximity. “Yes, sir,” she answered sarcastically, nose wrinkling with a raised lip. Something shifted in those dark irises and she caught the flicker of his eyes as they dipped to her lips, “Give me attitude and I’ll have you saying that while you fucking beg me.” Her skin was suddenly on fire, tightening at his words, aware of the muscle of his thighs underneath her hands. She felt hot and swallowed, aware he could feel the action with his hand still on her chin, “Sorry to break it to ya, but I’m not begging you for shit.” But then his mouth was smashing into hers, teeth cutting into her lip, and the hand with the rag curling around her neck. She could feel the cool water drip down her skin and run along her chest, the feeling icy against her heated skin. Kissing Joel was like drowning and she let herself, pressing back hard against his mouth and pushing her tongue between his lips, drinking in his groan as she did so. His hand briefly left her skin to ease himself off the cement block and onto the ground before he dragged her down into his lap, knees braced on either side of his thighs. She could feel him beneath her, already hard and pressing against her, the knowledge shooting straight to her core. She sucked on his lower lip, biting and sucking and letting him explore her mouth, his beard rough against her skin. The hand on her chin went to her waist and dug into the fabric of her shirt, pressing her harder against him and his hips rocked a bit, grinding his hard member into her through their jeans. She moaned softly, not wanting to attract the attention of the sleeping teen yards away. The rag in his other hand slid along her neck and he broke away to latch onto the newly cleaned skin there, biting into the spot just under her ear. She bit her tongue to keep her sounds at bay and dove her hand into his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls tightly in her fist. The day had left her running on adrenaline, raw and vibrating, and she knew exactly what this was. A release. A way for them to get their energy out after fighting for their lives. There were worse ways to handle it. For all that Joel drove her crazy, losing herself in him had its appeal like now when she could touch and caress every part of him that had managed to snag her attention. She ran her hand over the tense muscles of his neck as he continued to press open mouth kisses along her own, biting and licking and sucking his way along the path the rag had cleaned the blood away. Her hand moved to the hard muscles of his biceps, the patch of hair at the opening of his shirt, the rough skin of his stomach after she untucked his shirt. He was untouchable in the day, out there on the road, but she’d take this moment and use it to explore what she could while she had the chance. She ached, need pulsing as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her neck, and ground down into him. He hissed and broke away, resting his forehead against her shoulder, “Fuck. You’re fucking impatient, darlin.” “I’m not impatient,” she rocked against him again and could feel him move to meet the motion, “I’m showing you what needs attention, Miller.” He dropped the rag and grabbed the back of her neck, raising his face to meet hers, their noses touching, “Joel. When I fuck you, you say my name. Not Miller, not Tex. Joel.” She skimmed her lips along his and grinned mockingly, canines showing, “Yes, sir.” He growled and pressed his lips back against hers bruisingly, the kiss a messy clash of teeth and tongue as if they were trying to fight against one another. His hand on her hip moved to the front of her jeans and began to unbutton them, hands jerky and rushed, practically ripping them open and shoving his hand inside. Joel swallowed her moan when his fingers found her mound, sliding through her lips and feeling the slickness there already. He rubbed back and forth and let her rock against his hand, talking against her mouth, “This where you’re needing attention?” “It ain’t obvious?” she huffed and shuddered as his thumb found her clit, pressing hard against it and making her jerk. Slowly he pushed two fingers into her, using her wet arousal to stretch her and slide in and out. His mouth moved back to her neck, listening as her breath left her in raspy moans almost silent around him. He started so slow, letting her get used to him, and then started pumping faster and harder. The friction of jeans, his rough hand, and his own jerky motions of his hips felt delicious and she clawed at his shoulder to brace herself, the other still tangled in his hair. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he growled against her neck, scraping his beard across her sensitive skin. She could feel the beginning of her orgasm growing, the coil in her tightening and threatening to snap at any moment. His fingers were so thick inside of, filling her up, as his thumb kept circling and pressing down on her clit. And she was almost embarrassingly wet, knowing it was soaking through her jeans and covering his hand. Then, abruptly, he stopped and she gripped his hair and tugged his head painfully back as he removed his hand, “Miller-” “What’d I say ‘bout my name?” he snarled at her, the sound going straight to her throbbing center, “You beggin’ already?” Her tongue was pressed to the top of her teeth, eyebrow raised, as she shook her head in defiance. Instead she ground against him and the hard, straining member beneath his jeans. He was clenching his teeth, eyes fluttering shut briefly at the motion, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he fought hard to restrain himself. But she didn’t want him restrained and she certainly wasn’t going to beg. One of them was going to give in and it wasn’t going to be her. Joel Miller, for all his cleverness and practically, was not a patient man. The hand that had been inside her came up and stroked her chin, then her mouth, rubbing along her bottom lip as he watched. She continued to rock against him and scraped her nails against his scalp, then she teasingly touched her tongue to the thumb along her lip. Joel’s eyes flashed to hers and stayed there, burning in the darkness of the room, as she licked his thumb and let it slide into her mouth, sucking on it. She could taste her own arousal on his finger, the salt and slight grime still there. It was all Joel, perfect and rough and bitter. Her lips wrapped around the digit, pulling it into her hot wet mouth, her tongue licking him clean. His breath was coming out in heavy rapid pants, his other hand digging onto her thigh and sliding to her clothed ass, clenching it. Not once did she break eye contact. Even as her teeth scraped against his skin and her hand went to his belt buckle, she stayed watching him and seeing the fire light up in his dark irises. Then finally he snapped, the first to break. Before she could blink, he had pulled his thumb from her mouth and was lifting her up to her feet to rip her jeans down her legs. He did it swiftly, not caring if the tugging hurt or if he was jostling her around. He got them off her legs while she smirked and as she stood in front of him, he grabbed her thigh and yanked her forward, his mouth finding her cunt while one of his own hands moved to unbuckle his belt and jeans. She had to bite down on her lip to keep from making a sound, eyes flickering to where Ellie was still fast asleep, and sank her hand back into his hair to press his face against her. His tongue lapped at her desperately, beard rubbing against her sensitive skin, lips wrapping and sucking on her clit. It was exquisite, her legs shaking as he managed to coax her pleasure back to life. It was sloppy and rough and fast, her brain struggling to catch up to the lightning flaring up inside of her. His tongue dipped into her and she rocked against his face, desperate to find release. He hummed against her soaking warmth and then sucked hard on her clit, her orgasm hitting her so hard she had to brace herself on his shoulders to keep standing. It was fireworks, a lighting storm, everything hitting her at once as she came hard on his tongue. Joel gently coaxed her back into sitting on his lap, his jeans pulled down and his erection out and heavy against his thigh. She was still trying to catch her breath, hands resting on his naked thighs and head resting on his shoulder. His hand combed through her hair and tugged, using it to straighten back up and look at him, “Uh uh, darlin, I’m not done with you yet.” He kissed her roughly, her own taste all over his tongue and coating her mouth, while he pumped himself a few times. She groaned into his mouth, breathy little pants leaving her, then he was lifting her up to position her over his throbbing cock. She was still so sensitive and as she sank down onto him she squeezed her eyes tightly, biting down on her lips and pressing her forehead to his. Her being on top gave them a new angle that hit differently than last time, letting him fill her completely and hitting every spot that had sparks singing inside her skin. Fuck, he felt good and she had to fight so hard to keep from moaning out loud, could feel it in her throat wanting release. “That’s it,” he hummed to her, voice catching with his own moan, “Fuck, darlin’. I could come right now from being inside you.” Secretly, she was pleased to hear the praise and not be the only one affected. Sex had been good last time, but there’d been a tentative dance to it. Breaching the gap and testing the waters to see if they were on the same page. Now they both knew there was an attraction there and even if they hadn’t spoken about it, hadn’t said exactly what it was or if it had been a one time thing, there wasn’t a hesitation to jump that gap again. She started to move, lifting herself up and down, feeling him slide against the walls inside of her. Those sparks had started up again, building tight in her lower stomach and growing with each move. He began meeting her pace, thrusting up into her while leaning forward and placing hot kisses along her throat. His teeth found her collar bone, the small tattooed stars, and he nipped at them while his hands gripped her waist. He helped her bob up and down on him, starting slow and letting her get used to him. But she didn’t want it to be slow, didn’t want his gentleness. Bending down to his good ear, she breathily moaned and let his name slip out of her, “Joel.” And then the pace turned frantic and hard, his arms banding around her body and him thrusting his hips up into her wildly. His cock hit deep and the feeling bordered on pain, but it only intensified everything. She was soaking his lap in her arousal and his fingers were bruising her waist. It was overwhelming in its intensity, her already sensitive clit rubbing against the base of his erection, and she was climbing higher and higher. She wanted to drown in the feeling, lose herself in him and forget the world around them. Forget she was still covered in blood, forget her name, forget everything but this feeling of overwhelming pleasure. Then she was coming, whispering his name over and over again, him thrusting through her orgasm. She felt the moment he followed her, warmth filling her up completely as his release came inside of her and his movements became wild and slow. He held her tightly on his lap and her arms were around his shoulders, forehead resting against the side of his head. The silence began to seep back, awareness outside of their panting breaths, and the heat died down. She tried not to notice how he pressed one final, soft kiss to her collar bone before straightening up, his eyes meeting hers. “I didn’t beg,” she whispered, voice husky and raw from holding in her sounds. Joel huffed out a chuckle, eyes flickering to her lips then moving away, “Don’t sound so cocky, there’s still next time.” Next time. The words rolled around in her mouth and she tried not to feel pleased that there would in fact be a next time. Because it was something, some form of endearment towards her, outside of the constant bickering and getting after her. She smirked, “We’ll see, Joel.” _______________________ Tag List: @alouise20 @faceache111

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #raicodoll writes #series: feral

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lupinsweater · 20 days ago

Note

omg the new remus fic was so cute! it’s funny cuz i also don’t seem latina unless asked people always clock that im not american but they can never place it!!! i would love to see how that relationship develops. specially since i love the headcanon that remus is welsh so mayb they can bond over strange accents lol!

love ya

-🦉

hi 🦉!! i also love the headcannon that remus is welsh🙂‍↕️ i did end up playing more into the werewolf thing this time, but i want to incorporate the accents more in the future! hope you enjoy this update!

part one

Remus Lupin x Latina!Reader 💌 1.1k words

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

You were only a few weeks into school, and you were already cramming for an exam.

The Hogwarts library was practically deserted at this hour- most students had long since abandoned the hush of the library for the warmth of their beds. You’d found a quiet corner near the back of the library, hoping if you stayed quiet enough that Madam Pince wouldn’t notice you were still there. Your copy of Advanced Potion Making was spread open on the table in front of you, an array of notes surrounding the textbook in a clutter.

You sighed, flipping another page and scribbling what you hoped were coherent notes onto the parchment beside you. The ingredients list on the particular potion you were studying was maddeningly long and confusing; the precise movements required and incantations were starting to blur together in your mind. You rubbed your eyes feebly, wishing you’d gotten an earlier start on your studying- this wasn’t the first time Potions had been a struggle for you, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Still at it, I see?”

The voice startled you, and you looked up to see Remus standing near your table, a bundle of books tucked under his arm and his expression sympathetic.

“Unfortunately,” you replied, your tone only half-joking. “I think Potions is finally going to be the death of me this year.”

Remus chuckled quietly, moving towards the seat across from you and setting his books down. “Want some company? I can’t guarantee I’ll be much help, but I can guarantee that I’ll make sure Madam Pince doesn’t find us back here.”

“Please.” You hadn’t realized how tense you had gotten until he sat down. His presence immediately made you feel more at ease- a sensation like warm Butterbeer settling in your stomach washed over you. Remus fumbled through his bag for a moment before pulling out two Chocolate Frogs. He slid one across the table towards you, and you smiled gratefully as you unwrapped it.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” was all he said, a small smile toying at the corner of his lips. He unwrapped his own, breaking off a small piece and eating it, careful not to get any chocolate on his book as he began reading.

For a while, the two of you studied in companionable silence, heads buried in your books. Every now and then, Remus would quietly correct a detail you were writing in your notes or point out the use of an ingredient, and you found yourself both relieved and oddly impressed by his insight. He never made you feel like you were stupid- the tone he used almost made you feel like he was pointing out things for his own benefit, too, and not to correct you. But as the time ticked on, you could feel your mind drifting somewhere it often did when you were studying. Every word on the page of your textbook felt like it was blurring together, and the frustration of not being able to understand better began to mix with something else- something you had never felt inclined to share before.

You let out a frustrated sigh without realizing, and Remus looked up from his book, his gaze soft and concerned. “You okay?”

You chewed on your lip nervously as you met his gaze, not quite sure how to respond. For once, though, you felt like you wouldn’t be judged for voicing what had been bothering you for a long time. “It’s just…well, I know this sounds silly, but do you ever feel like you don’t belong here?”

Remus closed his book, and seeing you had his full attention made you feel both at ease and more nervous at the same time. “What do you mean?” He said, looking at you with genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know,” you responded, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “Like…like you don’t quite fit. Not because of anything you’ve done, but because of who you are.”

Remus’ eyes softened with sudden understanding. “Yes,” he said, which surprised you enough that you looked up at him again. “I know exactly what you mean. It can be hard. There are things I don’t talk about, things I feel like I have to keep hidden because…well, I guess I worry that people would treat me differently if they knew. There’s this pressure to act like I don’t struggle with anything.” He paused, then added softly, “It’s exhausting.”

You nodded in understanding, the words spilling from your lips before you could think about it too much. “I know I push myself harder than I should. Sometimes…it just feels like I have to. Like if I don’t, people will assume things.” You trailed off for a moment before continuing in a softer voice, “I feel like I’m always being watched. I know people notice that I’m different- my accent, the way I speak to my family in Spanish, the way I pronounce things sometimes…It’s like no matter how hard I try, I stick out like a sore thumb.”

Remus nodded, looking down at his hands, as though he was debating saying something. “I know how it feels to be different. It seems easier just to hide those parts of yourself,” he started slowly. He looked back up at you with a small, sincere smile. “But I think the things that make you different, and the things that make you stand out- they’re what make you remarkable. Anyone who doesn’t see that is missing out.”

That Butterbeer warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you looked down at your book, suddenly shy. A smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Remus.”

“I mean it,” he said earnestly. “You shouldn’t have to prove anything to anyone. If they can’t see how much you belong here, that’s on them.” As your smile grew, he added, “And, for the record, I happen to think your accent makes you sound way smarter than the rest of us.”

You laughed, kicking at his foot under the table. “Right. Tell that to Professor Slughorn next time he has a hard time understanding me.” Remus laughed, too, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

“I think he just needs to work on his English,” Remus said, making you smile somehow wider. He smiled back, and you felt your cheeks flush as his gaze lingered on you before he opened his book again. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you returned to yours, too, the Potions exam somehow seeming less daunting than it ever had before.

#lupinsweater #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x latina!reader #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin #marauders fluff #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #moony

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formulauno98 · 5 months ago

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A Birthday to Remember - Part Two - Toto Wolff x Reader

Originally written as an OC, inspired by an amazing request from @latte-luxe, I have rewritten this to a Reader POV, no descriptions and no use of your name. The only brief description is of a butt (you can probably guess why).

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Caution may contain spice. 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

Waking up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Last night had taken an interesting turn and you couldn’t quite believe how it had panned out. As you came to and reached out to find your companion you were disappointed to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. A rush of emotions hit you as you came to the realisation that last night was only ever going to be a one-off. Of course, the tall dark and handsome billionaire was not going to settle for a tourist.

Bittersweet you eased up out of bed, your body aching from last night’s activities. Glancing around, the room was a mess so you set about tidying before reuniting with your friends who had so graciously vacated for the evening. Picking up your clothes that were strewn around the room you then heard water running from the bathroom. Somebody was in the shower.

A glimmer of hope flashed, maybe it wasn’t such a one-time thing after all. Hoping it was Toto and not one of your friends you held your breath and knocked on the door gently.

“Coming!” called out a deep, most definitely male voice. It was Toto and you broke into a grin. Appeased that Toto had not fled, you wrapped herself in a fluffy white dressing gown and made your way out onto the sun-soaked balcony. As you leant on the balcony and enjoyed the view, you could hear the shower turning off and footsteps approaching.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” murmured a husky, heavily accented voice from behind you. Before you even had the chance to turn around, a pair of muscular arms swooped around from behind before coming to rest on your hips, gently squeezing your curves.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, turning around and leaning up to kiss the tall towel-clad Austrian, resting your hand on his bare chest as he pressed himself tightly against you.

“I hope you don’t mind, I took a shower.” his voice rumbled.

“Oh not at all, how was it?” you said, giddy with happiness.

“Good, I needed it, I was a little sore from last night,” Toto said, blushing.

“You and me both,” you said, your thighs still burning.

Toto grinned down at you, obviously smug that he’d worn you out before he suddenly turned his head sharply. Dropping his voice, he leant down “Are your friends in the room next door?”

Curious why he would suddenly ask that you quirked an eyebrow before nodding, “Yes, why?”

Pressing a long finger to his lips, Toto tilted his head to the left, to the wall that separated your balcony from the room next door. “They’re out there, I can hear them giggling.”

Catching on, you smirked, if your friends were eavesdropping you decided it was time to put on a show.

“Well Toto, maybe it’s time for an encore, right on his balcony?”

Toto looked a little taken aback before he swiftly realised your game. Playing along, he stretched his arms around you, pushing his hips into yours, already half-hard at the slightest suggestion.

“Hmm what did you have in mind?” he said, a dark look in his eyes.

“Take me right here, right now,” you said, extra loudly.

At that, the giggling from the balcony next door erupted into full-on laughter, followed by hushed “Oh my God, get inside!!” and chairs scraping.

“It’s okay ladies, we’re just messing with you!” you called out, Toto laughing.

“What you do on your balcony is none of our business,” called out Olivia, “And Happy Birthday!”

“Happy Birthday!” called two more voices in unison.

“Thank you, girls,” you said, laughing as you pulled Toto in by the waist, guiding him back inside your room, “I’ll be with you shortly.”

“It’s your birthday, you should be with your friends,” said Toto, looking torn.

“I’m sure they’ll survive for ten more minutes without me,” you replied, stretching up to kiss Toto once more.

“Ten minutes?” Toto quirked an eyebrow, “I can do better than that.”

“Well show me then,” you said, yelping as Toto picked you up in his arms and threw you backwards onto the bed, leaning down to press you into the mattress with his hips.

“I intend to,” he said, before silencing you with his lips. Desperately trying to wrap your arms around his broad back, you met his kiss with equal enthusiasm, passionately embracing the man you had only ever seen on television not twelve hours ago.

“I’m already wet, just fuck me, Toto,” you said breathily.

Dipping a hand down to test, Toto smiled as he found you to be telling the truth, “Mmm, but there’s no rush, let’s take our time.”

Continuing to grind his hips into yours, he was driving you crazy with need. “C’mon, you’re such a tease.”

“I know,” he said, before leaning up, bringing you up with him and flipping you over so you were now face down on the bed. Lifting your hips flush to his, you could feel him ghosting over the spot where you needed him the most, his hands grabbing enthusiastically at your breasts before reaching for a condom to slip on.

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” you asked, turning around with a pout.

“No, I’m not that cruel, and besides, it’s your birthday,” he said before roughly thrusting in, all in one hit, making you gasp with sudden pleasure.

“Mmm,” was all you managed to say as Toto began to loosely thrust, one of his hands dropping to rub circles on your clit.

“You like that?” he asked, slowing down, teasing once more.

“Yes but faster,” you gasped.

SIlently obliging, Toto began to speed up, setting a faster but still sensual pace, making you moan as you pushed your hips back to meet his.

“I have to say, you have the most fantastic ass I’ve ever seen,” said Toto, suddenly squeezing you roughly.

Still speechless, you turned your head once again, meeting him with a smile, “I might have heard it a couple of times last night.”

Groaning, Toto doubled down on his thrusts, starting to feel you fluttering around him, on the brink. “Fuck Toto, I’m coming,” you said, collapsing face down onto the messed up sheets, Toto just behind you as he throbbed, thrusting and moaning a few more times before he too reached ecstasy.

Pulling out, he flipped onto his side, pulling you close into his chest.

“Happy Birthday,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The two of you lay there in bliss, in comfortable silence, for what felt like a lifetime before Toto finally broke the silence, clutching you tightly to his chest. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

Snuggling in closer, not wanting to get up, you replied, “We’re going to head to the beach club at Larvotto and then out for dinner at Elsa, some fancy restaurant, and then out for the night at Jimmyz. How about you?”

“You’re really going for it. I know Elsa, I know the owner, it’s good. Jimmyz is an experience…” he said grinning, “I’m not doing anything nearly as exciting.”

Tempted to invite him along, you forced yourself to be rational. This would be a one-off and as you kept repeating to yourself, chicks before dicks. You paused, choosing your words carefully, “Well you only have so many big birthdays.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Toto said with a smile, “And when do you leave again?”

“Tomorrow.” you said with a sad smile, “It was just a weekend trip and my friends need to be back by Sunday evening. It’s a little annoying as I took Monday off work.”

“What time is your flight?” Toto asked.

Not sure where this was going, you replied, “Midday, but I’ll need to leave here around nine or ten to get to the airport.”

You could see Toto’s mind whirring into action, “Are there any later flights?”

“Maybe, why do you ask?”

“Well, why don’t you stay longer?” he said.

You laughed, “Toto, I’m not like you, two nights at this hotel has wiped my entire vacation budget for the year.”

“Hmm, well if that’s the only issue, I can help.” he said smiling, “And if it costs extra to change your flight, I can cover that?”

“I’m not taking your money oh my gosh!” you said, flattered by his offer but not wanting to take advantage.

“Well, then, if this is too forward forgive me…” started Toto.

“Toto, we are lying here naked in bed, forward went out of the window about fourteen hours ago,” you said laughing.

“If you wanted, you could stay at my place? No expectations, I have two guest rooms. I know you would still need to change your flight but you’d get almost two extra days here? I could take you out on Sunday and show you the hidden beaches.”

Surprised by his offer, your mouth fell open. This was not where you thought your weekend trip would go. “Well, that would be amazing, are you sure? I will need to discuss it with my friends but yes I would love to!”

Smiling and dipping his head into the crevice of your shoulder, Toto replied, “Then it’s settled.”

“If the girls are cool with it,” you said firmly.

“Yes, if the girls are cool with it,” repeated Toto, his eyes hopeful.

---

Later that afternoon you found yourself lying on a sunlounger at La Note Bleue, a chilled-out beach club in Larvotto, your friends either side of you as you discussed Toto’s offer.

“It’s up to you, it’s your life.” said Olivia pragmatically, “But I think he might be after one thing.”

“I agree.” said Laura, “You barely know this guy and he’s asked you to stay at his house. That’s kind of weird no? How many other girls has he done this with? It’s a bit too slick. Sending the drinks, staying over.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s romantic.” said Becca, ever the optimist, “If he was after one thing he would have left this morning before you woke up.”

You pondered both sides, “I know what you mean, it’s all a little forward. He did offer to extend my hotel stay though.”

“It’s giving Pretty Woman,” said Laura.

Laughing you replied, “I did say no way!”

“Hmm but doesn’t that prove that he wasn’t just inviting you to his house straight off the bat?” countered Becca.

“True.” you agreed, “I guess at least with him being semi in the public eye means he can’t be a creepy murderer.”

“Hmm, tell that to OJ Simpson’s ex,” said Olivia, in a more serious tone.

“I don’t think he’s on that level Olivia,” said Laura, “But he could still be a playboy, he could do this every weekend for all we know.”

“Well, we know that most weekends he’s at a racetrack so maybe only on the weekends off,” you countered.

“A woman in every city, it’s the perfect life for a womaniser,” said Laura.

“Hmm you guys do not seem convinced,” you said.

“It’s not that we don’t want you to have fun, we just don’t want you to get hurt,” said Olivia.

“I appreciate that, maybe I could just change my flight to the evening and see him in the day, no more sex.”

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” said Olivia, “Then you can determine his intentions.”

“You could also stay at his and not have sex,” suggested Laura.

“Have you seen the guy?” said Becca, “He’s hot, that’s not happening.”

“Ooh, Becca.” Olivia’s eyes widened, turning to you “Watch out, you have competition!”

“Maybe I will if you don’t” said Becca laughing, “Joking aside, think about how narrow the chances were that we’d be here for your birthday weekend and you’d run into someone you know from the TV, who then sends drinks over because he fancies you, spend the night with you and then ask if you want to stay with him for two extra days. It’s like some romance novel.”

“You have a valid point.” said Laura, “It seems the stars aligned on this one.”

You smiled, “Do you know what, maybe I will stay the extra night, and like you said, I don’t have to sleep with him. He also said that he has a guest room so I’m sure I can stay there if it’s awkward.”

The girls squealed with excitement, “Then it’s settled. You’re staying here for two extra days with your billionaire loverboy.”

#toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #abirthdaytoremember

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changingplumbob · 3 months ago

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Glenn’s run on the challenge by @cawthorntales had come to an end. While he was happy that Grayson was getting the man he deserved (@akitasimblr your Clive was a winner from the start!) he felt empty. Leaving Henford on Bagley he had to make his way back home alone. Not even proper home. Phoebus had ordered the coven to shift location again in his absence so while the faces he was heading back to would be familiar the surrounds certainly wouldn't be.

I can hear you narrating you know. You can? *sighs* Just leave me alone

CW for very sad Glenn! You've been warned

*TEXT CHIME*

Don’t you want to check that No. I can’t. My wallpaper is me and Grayson. What if I promised it’s just your grandfather wanting to know how you are? *sniffles* I guess I could call him, I don’t want him to worry

Howard: Hello? Glenn: Hi grandfather Howard: Oh my boy. Are you okay? Did you get the right loading screen? Is the hotel nice? Miranda booked it, I still can’t work computers Glenn: You have other skills grandfather. You’re still the best spellcaster I know

Howard: Better not let Phoebus hear that Glenn: Is he still mad Howard: I mean… he’s leader of your coven, of course he’s upset that you chose to leave for the competition. But between you and I he did want you to win Glenn: I wanted me to win to grandfather *sniffles* Look, I’ll see you tomorrow Howard: Just promise me you’ll look after yourself

Glenn: Yeah… *starts to cry* Howard: Oh kiddo, I know it hurts. That’s how you know you were in love. But you have such a big beautiful heart Glenn. I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there and I know you did your best Glenn: But it wasn’t enough… Howard: Maybe not this time but- Glenn: *sniffling* I got to go grandfather. I need to find some food and check… stuff Howard: Okay. I love you kiddo, I’m going to give you the biggest hug when you’re back

Glenn hung up and felt his hear sink further with every sob. Sure there was company at home but the company he wanted most lay behind him. With another guy.

Do you have to keep narrating, I'm already depressed! Sorry! It's kind of my job as watcher you know. But I did get you an ice cream machine for the hotel...

Perfect. As a glutton my only companion is food. And even that will leave me I didn't mean- And I can't even be mad you know. Clive is so nice and he was always putting Grayson first. I got distracted by one compliment from Brandon and was on the back foot ever since

And... you ignored his dog I got in my own head too much. I was so worried she'd snap at me I didn't even try. But dogs love you Maybe... I guess I just underestimated how much I'd care about him. As time went on I just became so focused on doing everything right, I wouldn't try for stuff in case I got it wrong

I miss him already. Is that not the most pathetic thing you've ever heard Glenn honey, you're spiraling I mean... I'm happy for him, I am. I wanted him to find someone to love and he did. He deserves all the love in the world does my Stud Muffin. I mean... Clive's Stud Muffin

So what's next? Another challenge to break my heart? My own challenge where I get to make half a dozen people feel this insignificant I mean I don't think everyone that pursued Grayson fell as hard as you Clive did. And they're going to have just the most gorgeous kids You know what I think? I think we need to get you back home with the rest of your coven huh? Have a reset

*sighs* Just... promise me I won't be alone forever I'm going to look after you, promise

Who is that handsome sorcerer in the mirror? Wowee, what a catch! I bet he is also super smart, and super funny, and has really really nice abs...

And so we leave Glenn trying his best to give himself a pep talk before he heads back to the coven. What do you think is next for Glenn? Will he be able to move on or will his coven drive him insane? Can the competition give him a Silver lining?

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #me in real time

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maliceofminds · 1 year ago

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Lesbian wolfstar - the expanded version

The list is based on the original rec list by @strwbi-laces (which you can find here) but let’s just get into it:

what’s mine is yours, decaying in your arms and her body is a temple down in the frozen food aisle , a shot of succubus , feast and a dash of fae by @achilleslikespeas (plus these two microfics x x)

don’t panic by redspottywellies

I’ve come home by @strwbi-laces

Cute thing by @padfootsoftly

All of @plecotusauritus microfics: gymnast lesbians x x x x x x x x x x and pretty things

All of @pinklume microfics: x x x x x x

pomegranates (chapter six of ocho kandelikas) by @spindrifters

just a restless feeling by my side by unwholesome_gay

It was all by design by @melodramvs

tough, tried and true blue by @worldenough-and-time

boredom by moonymajor

development

Sweet talk

You & I (together and apart) by chillsoya

if I could walk away from me by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe

thirsty by WolfyWordWeaver

Lesbian Wolfstar pretty woman au by @spookymoonie

The whole lesbian wolfstar series by @aspiring-artist-em which includes Make me sweetheart, you’re safe love, Baby you’re okay, Too much Moony , please, I’m begging you, Mother, Remus Lupin and her little bitch, fourteen, you don’t love me you don’t care

Angel of small death and the beautiful lady (without mercy) by @strezzlecki

Fire on Fire by @atlasdoe

religions in your lips (the altar is my hips) by ourmidnights

Baby, you don’t have to rush by iloveuregulus

Song for no one by ninabnormal (@thebunnymen)

Comfort and Promises by TwistedShadows

Chasing after you is like a fairytale series by ManyCats which includes Don’t you wonder when the light begins to fade? , And I got back up (those days are over) and the things we lost in the fire

This microfic by @canyouhearmyfear bruises and water

Midnight girls and it’s companion piece Soul Somethings

Dress by criersw1fey

Summer refreshments and Last Chance by @wxlfstxrisbest

Miss sugar pink and She’s a rainbow by @samdaydreams

With your hair down and soft like summer rain by @lunarlivs

hand me my heart in the palm of your hand while it’s still beating , keep my heart in the freezer so it doesn’t go bad with my love , fate is giving us a hard time but maybe romance isn’t dead and God Blessed/Hell bound by @maliceofminds

Hang me up to dry by EuripidesTrousers(I_DDare_You)

She with the eyes my heart does blind and some part of me came alive the first time you called me baby , not looking for absolution, forgiveness for the things i do, only live to admire your beauty, i want to hold you close (soft breath, beating heart) by @mothlau

Ribs are designed to be crawled into and Always pushing her luck by @sommerregenjuniluft

this is my body by @kaleidoscopexsighs

the first time you called me baby by @a-round-of-robyns

Love and Universal Truths, There‘s Something Wretched About This and Real Love, Baby by @werewolfenthusiast

If I forgot to tag someone just message me and I’ll edit it, I just couldn’t find everyone’s tumblr tbh:). Also everyone feel free to add to this I’m sure I’m forgetting something<3

#i do love making a good list #and this was very neat #also thank you to everyone for feeding the agenda #lesbian wolfstar #recs #saved

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scuttling · 4 months ago

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I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 2

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,441 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, it's gonna get real nasty Summary: Sookie's cousin returns to Bon Temps, and Eric wants her... to work for him. She says yes.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

She finds herself at Fangtasia again a few days later—what else does she have to do, unemployed and ostracized as she is?—with another martini in her hand as she stares up at a surrealist painting hanging on the wall. It’s larger than life, with tigers and an elephant and a nude woman lounging in the sea, but she’s afraid she can make no emotional connection to it. Dali is weird.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Eric greets in a low, even tone as he seems to materialize beside her, his eyes also on the painting. This time he’s wearing a black v-neck sweater, and it makes the muscles of his arms look even better, if that’s possible.

“Teasing you?” she asks, looking up at him, and he turns to her and scans her body the way he seems to every time they meet. It would irritate her, if it were anyone else, but having Eric’s attention is hugely flattering, and she can’t bring herself to dismiss the way it makes her feel.

“Coming into my bar again… looking like that.” He says it like she’s a forbidden snack dangled in front of him, and she ponders it.

She is technically fully covered in a maroon turtleneck, black miniskirt, tights and boots, which doesn’t seem all that tempting… until she considers that he’s nearly fully covered too and has quite literally never been more attractive to her. He buzzes in her ear again—his mind, his aura, whatever the hell it is—and she finally remembers that he’s said something, wets her lips to speak.

“There’s no vampire bar in Bon Temps, or I’d probably be there,” she says with a sip of her drink. Okay, maybe not, she thinks as he leans into her space, tilting his body so that it’s him she’s looking up at instead of the art. No, either way she would probably find herself drawn here, to him.

“Why? Do you like vampire blood?” he asks seriously, almost like an interrogation, and she shakes her head, frowns.

“I don’t do drugs, and no vampire has ever offered it to me.” She wants to make sure she covers all her bases, is transparent in her knowledge of not only V as a commodity, but the ritual of bloodsharing that vampires sometimes perform with their companions. “Regardless, blood isn’t the reason I came.”

“Did you come for me?” he asks, the tone of his voice the same but his expression more relaxed. She nods her head.

“Yes. I’ll do it – consult for you, work for you, whatever you want to call it.” It took her about two days to decide, then two more to get up the courage to come down to the bar and ask for what she believes she deserves—a problem she’s never had professionally before. Her answer earns her a change in posture, and Eric seems gratified by her response.

“You will? I’m pleased to hear that,” he says, and she nods her head, trying to ignore the way it warms her all over to know he’s happy with her choice.

“I have some stipulations,” she tells him directly, not intending to mince words, and he carefully takes the glass from her hand and sets it on a table behind them. The two middle aged humans who occupy it look absolutely thrilled at this sighting of a vampire in the wild, which makes Cam want to smile.

“I would expect no less. Let’s go into my office so we can be candid,” he suggests, gesturing toward the back of the bar, and he leads her through the crowd of bodies to the cluttered, unremarkable office with a hand hovering at her lower back.

“So what is it that you want from me? Explicitly,” she asks when he closes the door. “You know I’m a lawyer, so specific language is kind of my thing.” He pulls a chair out for her, then takes the seat on the other side of the desk and leans across it to speak.

“I would like to be able to call on you when I have a situation that could benefit from your gift—and I would like to be the only vampire who calls on you. That’s non-negotiable.”

She’d expected the first part—not so much the second—but it’s nothing she’s unwilling to give.

“I can agree to exclusivity, but keep in mind that occasionally I will hear or see things whether I want to or not; if I come upon a vampire matter, I’ll inform you and let you decide how to proceed. If it’s not a vampire matter, I’ll provide the information to whomever I see fit.”

“Okay, yes,” Eric agrees easily, and then he backtracks for a moment, looking curious. “Hear or see?”

“Well, thoughts aren’t always just a string of words, you know? Often they include images, memories, even vague feelings. What I do, it’s kind of a mixture of all those things.”

“That’s… good to know,” he says, and he taps his fingers against the desk. “It’s also important to me that you make yourself available when I need you; as you know, I only do business between sunset and sunrise. If I’m calling upon you, I have deemed it important, and I expect to take priority over other things you may be doing—anything short of a life and death emergency.”

“That’s fair,” she says, though she wonders if they should take a moment to formally define life and death emergency in case it comes up in the future. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “See? No threats or manipulation necessary.”

It’s playful, now, his tone of voice, and she answers it with a slightly skeptical smile.

“And what are you willing to give me in exchange?”

“Anything,” he says, and it sounds earnest; he splays his arms wide like he’s gesturing not just to the room, but beyond it to the bar, the city, the world. “Anything. Money, blood, drugs, sex, protection, power—whatever you want.”

All of those things come with a hefty price tag, she thinks—and part of her has to wonder if her gift, as he called it, is actually worth it. The short list of demands she was fully prepared to fight for just an hour ago seems to pale in comparison to how important he thinks she will be.

“I would expect to be compensated in the event you come to me and I am involved in solving a problem, but I also need a retainer. Nothing outrageous, but if I’m going to be at your beck and call I won’t be able to commit to a regular job.”

“Of course,” he says easily, like the financials don’t matter to him in the slightest. She’s dealt with wealthy clients before, of course, even wealthy vampire clients, but his flippancy adds another layer of surrealism to the already surprising conversation. Should she ask for a luxury car, a yacht, season tickets to see the Saints? “What else?”

She’d considered this next point, and then abruptly un-considered it, felt she was asking too much… but given his promise of anything, she feels bold again. Like she could actually have the upper hand.

“I want protection—your protection. If I’m in real danger, and I call for you, I want you to be the one who comes for me.”

Eric raises an eyebrow, looks over her face carefully. It’s like he’s regarding some part of her for the first time, his gaze lingering.

“Do you anticipate being in danger often?”

“No, but I made enemies in Chicago, and you know how word travels in those circles. There are certain groups who aren’t fond of what I’ve done—and it’s possible there will be people who don’t approve of my employment here. I’d just like to know I’ll be safe, if I’m going to make working for you my priority.”

She exhales, feeling a bit less confident than when they started this, but Eric just makes a thoughtful sound and says, “It’s yours. Anything else?” he asks, and she considers that a win and stands up, feeling instantly intimidated when he stands too, tall and dark and strong. It’s so much easier to do business with him when they’re sitting down, when he’s on her level, or as close to her level as he will ever be.

“No, I think that’s it,” she says, and she sticks her hand out to shake, feeling oddly formal as she does. As a lawyer, she would have preferred the security of a contract, but that’s not the way most vampires operate and she knows better than to suggest it; that could be seen as an indication that she doesn’t find him trustworthy. A handshake, his word and hers, will have to do.

Looking into her eyes, he reaches out and takes her hand in his, shakes for a moment and then holds it there for just a beat too long before pulling away. She walks toward the door, and then, when the thought strikes her, she turns back to face him once more.

“Actually, there is one more thing,” she says, and as he walks closer she can’t help flashing back to his offer of sex—thank god she’s the one with the power of telepathy and not the other way around. “Could you help me find a decent apartment somewhere between here and Bon Temps? Sookie’s a great roommate, but I can’t stand that drafty old house.” And all of its memories.

“Consider it done,” he tells her, and she nods her head and leaves the bar, climbs into her car, and definitely doesn’t pump her fist in the air when she stops at the red light at the end of the block.

Two days later, a FedEx driver actually drops off an employment contract—it was silly of her to assume he wouldn’t also want their terms in writing—along with a slip of paper, upon which is written an address and a phone number, and a key.

The first night she spends in her new apartment—which is truly perfect, bright and white and airy, with tons of nearby green space and amenities—there is a knock at the door. When she opens it, Eric is on the other side, in a leather jacket and jeans, holding a bottle of wine with an expensive French label. She looks him over, and he does the same, making her feel a little self conscious in her bike shorts and oversized t-shirt, ponytail, bare feet.

“Eric—what a nice surprise,” she says, and it really is nice, and surprising. She never would have anticipated him coming to her without needing something—assuming he doesn’t need something now. The wine would be an odd touch, but as always with vampires, nothing’s out of the question.

“I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood,” he replies.

Cam had been slightly suspicious when the very first listing he sent her was a mere five miles from his bar, but when she considered his request for her exclusive availability, she figured it made enough sense not to question him any further.

“You did that when you paid my rent. For a year,” she tacks on, her tone admonishing, because that was not part of the employment contract. A faint smile lifts his lips.

“Consider it a sign-on bonus.” The air between them feels oddly charged, and then she tunes into it, realizes it’s that static that seems to follow him around. He shifts where he stands. “I brought you a bottle of wine. A housewarming gift,” he explains, handing it to her, and she wraps her fingers around the neck and pulls it close with a smile of her own.

“Thank you. Would you like to come in and have a glass with me?”

It’s clear by the look on his face he hadn’t been expecting that—probably didn’t expect to be invited into her home unless it was absolutely necessary for her protection in the future—but he nods, and when she takes a step back he crosses the threshold, closes the door behind him, and follows her to the kitchen.

“Are you sure this one is okay? The neighbors are so… close together,” he remarks of her new townhouse, and she bends to sort through a box full of kitchen gadgets, pulling out the corkscrew after a few seconds of rummaging.

“Oh, trust me, it’s great. My apartment in Chicago was little more than a shoebox with windows, and there’s a pool here, and a park nearby. I really appreciate everything you did.”

She opens the bottle, pulls two glasses down from the cabinet—the only cabinet she’d managed to fully unpack—and carries them over to the table, where Eric has already settled into a dining chair. He looks uncomfortable, tall and stiff and alert, like this is all a little too human for his taste.

“Still, it seems like you miss things there,” he says as she pours them each a serving, and she shrugs, then sinks down into the seat next to his with her leg tucked beneath her.

“Things haven’t been very good there for the last couple years, so I’m actually happy to have a fresh start.” She takes a sip of her wine, full-bodied and earthy with a peppery finish, and can’t help the sigh of pleasure she expels. “My god, that’s good.” She says it with the hint of a smile, something he casually reciprocates.

“I had a feeling you would like it,” is all he says, but when he takes a sip his eyes fall closed, and he seems to let it sit on his tongue a moment before continuing the conversation.

“So what kinds of things do you anticipate calling on me for?” she asks later, as they are finishing their second glass. Eric takes a moment to gather his thoughts, and she thinks it’s because he’s choosing his words intentionally, for her benefit.

“Mostly to confirm my suspicions if I think a human is being deceptive; I have some human employees, and I make business deals with others. Sometimes I need to know if my patrons are lying—if they’re underage, or looking for V, or conspiring against us. As sheriff, sometimes vampires come to me with human problems as well—it would be easier to deal with them if I had you available to me.”

“That sounds fair,” she says, appreciating his careful explanation. She shifts in her seat. “At my old firm they called me the human lie detector… they just didn’t know quite how close they were to the truth.”

“It must be difficult, to hear all the things you hear,” he says, and she nods her head in agreement.

“It can be, but I’ve gotten fairly used to it over time. Taught myself to control it instead of letting it bother me.” Things are quiet for a moment, and she takes the opportunity to say something that’s been on her mind since he arrived. “I feel a little uneasy about asking for your protection the other day. I think I may have asked too much of you,” she says with a frown. “I know you’re busy with the bar, and as sheriff, that a lot of people rely on you, and I’m not sure it’s fair of me to make such an extravagant request.”

It takes some effort for her to be able to look up at him instead of focusing on her glass, but when she does he seems thoughtful, his eyes serious but gentle.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I thought it would disrupt my other obligations. No harm will come to you while you’re under my employ, I promise.” She nods, placated by his reassurances, and he taps a finger against the tabletop. “You said you’ve taught yourself how to control your gift. Can you… hear vampires?”

His tone is reserved, but hopeful, and she grimaces.

“No offense, but vampire minds are kind of empty. My guess it has to do with electrical impulses, or lack thereof. Technically, I can hear you, but it’s like white noise, sometimes, or tinnitus. I don’t get any actual thoughts.” She ponders his question for a moment, wonders if that unique buzzing she picks up when he’s around is his mind, or something different. “Touching helps with humans, though. I can rewind a little bit, see memories instead of just what’s playing live, if that makes sense; maybe it would help me hear something from you?”

Eric stretches his arm across the table, his bare hand palm up, and she slides hers over it after a cautious moment. She presses their skin together and lets her eyes glance over his face, listening carefully, searching. It feels like a very, very long time passes, and a lot of static, but eventually she finds a moment, a phrase or sentence among the near silence.

“Ӓr du död?” she murmurs, and while she can’t see anything, she can feel the heat of flames nearby. It warms her hand where it turns to ice against Eric’s. His brow furrows in recognition, and she exhales, blinks. “I don’t know the language. What does it mean?”

“It’s Swedish. ‘Are you death?’ It’s the first thing I said to Godric, my Maker, before he turned me,” he admits, his voice serious and somber. Cam inhales sharply at that knowledge.

“Wow. I can’t imagine I’ve ever gone back further than a few days that way, let alone…”

“A thousand years, give or take.” He answers her unspoken question with a deeply curious expression. “That was among the last of my human memories, so I suppose it makes sense that you can see it.”

“I can feel it, too,” she says, and she wraps her fingers around his, searching for more, for a deeper connection. She closes her eyes this time, in hopes it strengthens the memory. “I can feel the heat from a fire. And I can feel that you’re dying. You’re cold inside, but your skin is warm.”

“Tell me more,” he says, his voice barely there. He tightens his grip on her hand.

“There’s a man there, a very young man, and you’re not happy with him… but you aren’t afraid of him, either. He has a strangely calming presence; you’re not sure if he’s an angel or the devil.”

“Godric.” His Maker. He looks strangely young for a vampire, vulnerable, and though he’s short, he towers over Eric in his memory, eyes deep and dark and full of possibility.

“Through your eyes, he looks larger than life,” she says softly, and his fingers flex. Even if she hadn’t known Godric was his Maker, the way this man makes him feel is as clear as any emotion she’s felt herself. He is death and life, the end and the beginning.

“He is,” Eric says—not was, she takes note of that—and when he starts to pull back she releases his hand and lets hers drop to the tabletop. She feels tapped out after that, exhausted, and Eric nods his head once in her direction. “That is a remarkable gift you have.”

“It’s something,” she says casually, as if she didn’t just travel over a thousand years in her mind and pull out his last memory of human life, as if she didn’t feel like she was inside him, a part of him, his heart, his head, his hands. She sits there, speechless for a moment, and then Eric takes a deep, exaggerated breath.

“Well, I should get back to Fangtasia—I’m happy to see you’re settling in,” he tells her, and when he stands she stands, walks him to the door. It closes behind him, and she feels both strangely invigorated by his presence, and deeply conflicted by his departure.

At Fangtasia, Pam waits for Eric at the front door.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her heels clicking on the floor as she follows him back to the office. The crowd naturally parts for them, and though Eric probably attributes it to his aura—he’s been acting strangely woo-woo lately, talking about witches and energy and vibrations and the like—it’s more likely his huge, hulking frame and the fact that his expression alone would kill, if such a thing were possible. “You know I find it distasteful to be left alone with the humans for so long.”

“I had an errand to run,” he says, but he smells like wine and the girl, there’s no mistaking it. Errands, her perky ass.

“How is she?” she asks as he slides into the chair behind the desk, stretching back so he can hook his ankles over the edge of the desk. It’s even worse than manspreading. He looks up at her like he’s not sure what she means, and she crosses her arms over her chest and blinks. “Our new employee. Camila. That’s who you were with, isn’t it?”

“You don’t care how she is,” is all he says in response, and she leans over and smacks his boots so his feet fall to the floor. Pam knows that only happened because he let it, and she bites back a fond smile.

“No, I don’t, but apparently you do. I thought you were obsessed with Sookie when she came along, but this girl has you… buying apartment buildings, and promising your protection, and you’ve barely known her for a week.”

She hopes he doesn’t take her tone for jealousy, because it’s not, not really; she’s just never seen him this infatuated, and it’s freaking her out a little, if she’s being honest. Like it or not, her life, her comfort, relies very heavily on Eric and his… happiness isn’t quite the right word, but when he is content, her nights tend to be much smoother, more enjoyable all around. She gets to drink from an endless supply of young, willing, rich-blooded partygoers instead of traipsing around the woods and ruining her favorite pumps, or trapping moronic anti-vampers and using them to set an example for their friends.

“You have no idea how important she is going to be. No idea,” he repeats, and his voice has that strangely mystical quality about it again, a faint undertone of magic that hovers around its edges. He’s been to see a witch, she thinks, or had his fortune told, something that’s led him to believe this girl and her gift are crucial to whatever he has planned. It sends a chill down her spine that she’s unable to fight. “Her gift is going to make us unconquerable.”

After a long pause, he pulls out his laptop from the top drawer, opens it, which she knows is equivalent to dismissing her, and she sighs softly and makes her way back out to the floor.

“I cannot believe you’re working for Eric,” Sookie says as she hangs a handful of pressed skirts in Cam’s bedroom closet. Her typical uniform is very different from Sookie’s, the blonde notices. Across the room, Cam carefully arranges gold jewelry in a tiered acrylic box with satin lined drawers.

“It’s as close as I can get to my old job for now, and I’m not really in a position to be picky, or I wouldn’t have come back to Louisiana at all—no offense,” she throws over her shoulder. Sookie tuts and waves her hand.

“None taken. I know where my heart is,” she assures her cousin. Like all small town girls, Sookie sometimes kicks herself for never leaving Bon Temps, but more often than not she loves her hometown, its history, her family’s legacy.

Gran’s, at least.

She grabs a pile of folded sweaters in cashmere and various knits, stacks them in the space above the closet rod. “Aren’t you at all worried he’s going to use you to hurt people?”

Behind her, Cam takes a long, careful breath and turns to face Sookie.

“One thing you have to understand—especially if you and Bill are in it for the long haul—is that vampire justice is different. I know it shouldn’t be, but until now they've been non-existent in terms of conventional law. They have their own systems in place—hierarchies, rules, punishments—and we can’t step in and tell them how to behave overnight just because we think we know better.”

Sookie shoots her a look—as pro-vamp as she is, she admits she’s not comfortable accepting their more violent tendencies, especially where humans are involved. Cam only shrugs.

“I’m going to defer to Eric’s expertise as sheriff, but I’ll call it like I see it. If he’s being unnecessarily cruel or unjust, I’m not afraid to discuss it with him. If his actions seem to be aligned with the usual nature of his business, I’ll excuse myself.” She walks toward the bed, picks up a pile of panties, mostly black, and places them into the top drawer of a light-colored dresser. When she turns back to Sookie, it’s clear that Cam can read the expression on her face, one of thinly-veiled awe. “What?” she asks, and Sookie smiles, shakes her head.

“I don't know, I guess… Just, when did you get so confident? So smart, so sure of yourself?” Cam had always been the leader, strong where Sookie was soft, sure where Tara was uncertain, and though Sookie feels like they’ve all come into their own in recent years, she is so pleasantly surprised at the absolute stunner her cousin has become—physically and intellectually. She feels as proud as Cam’s mom would if she were around, Sookie’s sure.

“It’s been a long ten years, Sookie,” is all Cam says, and though she can tell there is more to that statement, she can also sense that now isn’t the time to get into that. Later, someday.

“Yeah, it has. I just wish I was half as comfortable as you in this new world… sometimes I think I stick out like a sore thumb,” Sookie admits, lifting a stack of shoe boxes and lining them up on the floor of the closet. Cam steps over to join her, adds a couple pairs of boots, and puts her hand on Sookie’s shoulder.

“You’re like a sunflower growing among dead grass. It’s not a bad thing to stick out,” she promises with a smile that crinkles the corner of her eyes, and Sookie pats her hand in gratitude continues to help her settle in.

#true blood #true blood fanfic #eric northman #eric northman fanfic #eric northman/original female character #eric northman/female reader

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mindutme · 3 months ago

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Valya Vednesday #5

Today I’ll talk about the (ongoing) development of the writing system for my conlang Valya! What you see above is the earliest stage of the Valya syllabary, written in wax. Valya is spoken on an island on another world, but it’s connected to this one: at various times throughout history, doors have opened up between the two worlds, allowing people to pass from one to the other. It’s how humans made their way to that world in the first place, and it’s how the concept of writing arrived on the island centuries later.

That particular door was a small one. Only a few people came through to the island, maybe a dozen or so. The doors aren’t exactly physical things (I haven’t figured out the details of how magic works yet but it’s rarely visually obvious; it’s more like you get lost in the woods in one place and wander out of the woods in the other) but they do connect specific places in this world with specific places on the island. In this case, the door went to somewhere in Europe, sometime in the Middle Ages. Only one of the people that came through was literate, and he happened to have with him a wax tablet. He was old and never properly learned to speak Valya, and therefore never taught the Latin script to the speakers of Valya, but through him and his companions the concept of writing was transferred to the island.

When it was first written, Valya had a very simple phonotactic structure: every syllable was CV or CVV. There were sixteen consonants and only three vowels, which made it ideal for a syllabary. There were 51 glyphs: 48 for all the possible CV syllables, and three more for i, u, and a as the second vowel of a syllable. Unlike many real-world early writing systems (as well as the first stages of some of my other conlangs’ writing systems), these early glyphs were not representational in any way. Rather, they were based on the sorts of shapes that appeared in the writing on the wax tablet.

Syllabaries seem to be a natural choice when developing a new writing system: the Cherokee Syllabary was developed in the early 1800s, similarly based on Latin writing without actually being a descendant system. In that case, several of the syllabograms are basically identical to particular Latin letters, but without any correspondences between their sounds! The situation with Valya is similar, with certain letter forms getting borrowed but not the system as a whole.

The forms of Latin letters that were used when writing in wax were somewhat different than what we’re used to today, because of limitations of the medium. In order to understand and emulate this, I actually made a little wax tablet of my own—not at all historically accurate, but enough to get the right idea (I think). My “tablet” is the lid of a scented candle, with a thin layer of wax poured in. It’s a soy candle, not beeswax, so it’s quite a bit softer, but I find that putting it in the freezer for a bit helps get something closer to the right texture. I also read a bit on the subject, and found this to be a particularly helpful source—see figure 9 for a very nice reconstruction of the writing on a tablet from the first century CE!

What I found through using the tablet matched up pretty well with what I read. Shorter strokes were preferable, as were downward strokes (toward you as you’re writing). Curves are okay as long as they’re not too sharp and don’t continue for too long. Strokes shouldn’t cross, because wax from the second stroke will get into the groove of the first stroke and mess it up. Two strokes can meet, but the second one should be drawn from the meeting point outward, to avoid the same issue of wax getting into a previously-drawn stroke.

So here are the 51 syllabograms of the first Valya writing system:

The image at the top of the post is this same list (through ti, because I couldn’t quite fit them all). Here are a couple of examples of early Valya written on wax:

Va-miuru lu mii, “The two cats are small.”

Ra visi gi mulii tu luiti, “I found two ammonites on the beach.”

After a time other mediums for writing were developed. The Europeans who came through the door knew of paper (or at least parchment) and ink, of course, so it wasn’t too long before people started using those on the island as well. Once the change in mediums had taken place, there were also changes in letter forms, with separate strokes within a glyph getting connected together and the shapes getting curvier in general. The modern forms of these 51 glyphs are shown here, but there are many more letters besides in Modern Valya, derived from ligatures of pairs of these original 51 letters.

In Modern Valya, the above sentences become Vamüru lu myi and Ra fsi gi mülyi tu lüti. Here’s what they look like:

Back outside of the fictional history of Valya writing, I knew how I wanted the writing system to work, generally (a syllabary with ligatures), but I had a few different ideas as to its origin. I did consider starting from pictographs, like I did with the Mindutme and Tlette alphabets, but that would have been difficult for a few reasons besides just having to come up with at least 51 unique and easily distinguishable glyphs. The idea of borrowing a writing system came next, and since I knew there would be travel between the fictional world and the real one, it seemed reasonable to think that some real-world syllabary might have made its way to the island.

The ones I looked into the most were Japanese kana (likely a combination of katakana and hiragana) and Linear B. However, I also really liked the idea of wax tablets being used, which probably rules out Linear B (as far as I can tell, it was used somewhat before the earliest known use of wax tablets, though not by too long) and definitely rules out kana, unless the wax tablets were independently invented for some reason. Also, it was a challenge to wrangle the glyph shapes of both systems into the sort of aesthetic that I wanted for modern Valya writing. So in the end I decided on a looser approach, inspired by the actual history of the Cherokee syllabary and allowing more freedom with the early stages of the script.

The font for the modern script is coming along nicely—I’ve now made 120 glyphs. Just six more and I’ll have all of the CV and CGV glyphs made!

#conlang #neography #conscript #constructed language #Valya #worldbuilding

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kaija-rayne-author · 5 months ago

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DA 4 Veilguard predictions

Okay so I wanted to get a whole ass post about what I think is likely to happen in DA 4 done before the reveals but I haven’t had the time between work and life.

There are MASSIVE spoilers for every Dragon Age game, book, comic, and most internet theories in this post. Proceed with caution.

Also I swear like the truckers I grew up around. So CW on language.

First and foremost, I’m going to warn you all that I’m a die-hard Solavellan. If you don’t like that? Don’t bother reading this. And for gods’ sake don’t bother arguing with me about it. Depending on my mood, I’ll either first roast your face off and then eat it with bbq sauce or if I’m feeling generous, I’ll just block your ass. You like what you like about games. I’ll like what I like. I don’t shit in your porridge, I ask you to not do it to me. As I’m writing this, I’m 47 years old and I’ve been gaming since I was 9. Which means I’ve been gaming longer than a lot of you have been alive. Stop yucking on people’s yum. There’s far too little joy in this world. Go find your own.

So, this is just a partial post (albeit, in true to me fashion, an incredibly LONG one XD). It will cover stuff I think we might see revealed in things this weekend at either SGF or Xbox whatever (I have no idea why they’d bother with the Xbox thing since they hold such a small share of the gaming market these days but whatever.) We’re seeing something between Friday and Monday. Hopefully, enough to give hope to the masses.

Depending on how much time I have before I have to serve dinner I might add some more of my theories.

It’s a bit silly of me to be so obsessed about this game because my computer definitely won’t be able to handle it, and because I’m a disabled, neurodivergent author with a family to support… well… the likelihood of me being able to buy both a computer able to handle it and the game itself any time in the near future isn’t good. So, I won’t be able to play it. I am going to add my links and a go fund me to the bottom of this post (which has taken me hours to research and write so if you would like to donate to the cause I would be so deeply appreciative. Dragon Age is one of my AuDHD special interests, and it’s killing part of my soul to know I can’t participate when it comes out. I promise I’ll write all sorts of interesting stuff about it!)

But I can’t help myself. Letting my research-oriented, lore-obsessed brain noodle about Dragon Age is one of my very favourite special interests. So, without further ado… here goes!

CLASSES

I think we have a good chance of seeing some of these as playable classes.

Knight-Templar ❌

Lord of Fortune ✅

Antivan Crow ✅

Mortalitasi (Nevarran necromancer) ✅

Grey Warden ✅

Shadow Dragon ✅

Shaper/Carta/Kal-Sharok/Sha-Brytol Dwarf ❌

Veil Jumper ✅

Fen’harel Fanatic (not his usual people, the fanatical ones detailed in Tevinter Nights) ❌

Companions

A lot of these ideas come from the supplementary material that I’ve read at least three times each. I’m obsessed. What can I say?

Qunari: ✅ Tal-Vashoth Sarrebas, maybe Qwydion? ❌

Rivani Lord of Fortune: ✅ ‘Hollix’ maybe? That would be fun, plus they are canonically non-binary! Please please please? With sugar on top? ❌

Tevinter Mage/Magister: ✅ Maevaris Tilani ❌ would be so cool, but I’d be equally as happy to see Neve Gallus. ✅ Honestly, they both have benefits for me. Mae is trans and Neve has a prosthetic leg. Alternatively, I liked Myrion ❌ well enough that he’d be a cool companion too. And he’s canonically bisexual from what I read between the lines.

Grey Warden: ✅ Please let it be Antoine! ❌ (Antoine absolutely has ADHD and I would love to see more of that rep in a AAA game.) Evke ❌ could be fun too.

Templar Knight-Commander: Rana Savras ❌

Spirit Companion: I really hope it’s not Audric. 1. He’s not really a spirit, he’s a higher undead, which is a Zombie by any other term. And all the poor guy wants is to organize his library. I’ll be quite disappointed with the writers if they go this route.

So, we’ve had Faith/Wynn, Justice/Anders, and Compassion/Cole. There are two other widely known benevolent spirits in Dragon Age canon. Valor and Hope. Given what I think is gonna happen in DA4, my money is on a Hope spirit. ❓

Antivan Crow: ✅ Illario Dellamorte. ❌ (I really really hope it’s not Lucanis Dellamorte. 💩 He’s so damned annoying and gods that is NOT how an assassin operates. Here's my professional editorial opinion of why Lucanis is an absolutely terrible character.

Veil Jumper/Dalish/City Elf: ✅ Strife. ❌ Please please please? He’d be so awesome as a companion character. He’s not young! I want an older companion character. (And it would let them get away with the white hair on a darker skinned character without it being racist as fuck.) I just really hope he looks better than he did in the comics. The art style in those was just fucking terrible.

I am hoping that we can somehow romance Lace Harding. ✅ But I just don’t see how she could fit in with the reported likely classes and things I’ve personally considered.

That gives me 8 even though reports say we only get 7. But did you notice in this picture that there are 8? So either we’re gonna get a ‘secret’ companion like Loghain Mac Tir. (Three guesses who that will be and the first two don’t count.) Or they have a surprise for us. Or the art is off.

I could also see Kieren ❌ as a companion. (Morrigan’s son) He’d be just about old enough if we get the time jump reports are saying we will. He was roughly 12 in DAI. + 2 for Trespasser puts him at 14. Ten years minimum between Trespasser and DA4 puts him at 24. So, it’s possible. I could also see Vaea as a companion. But I’m not exactly sure how she would fit with classes.

Potential Advisors

Some of these I’ve got as potential companions as well because I could see them fitting either.

Dorian Pavus for Tevinter Magisters (I think this is very likely given Tevinter Nights.)

Maevaris Tilani (Same as above.)

Charter (I think we’ll see Charter stepping into Leliana’s place as Spymaster given what we saw in Trespasser and Tevinter Nights.)

Myrna/Audric (Mortalitasi)

Ramesh (Grey Wardens)

Genetivi (Scholar) (given what happened in Tevinter Nights I have a feeling we’ll be seeing him again under a new name)

Viago De Riva (Antivan Crows)

Andarateia Cantori (Antivan Crows) I’d love to see Zevran again but considering what he was up to in DAI I think it’s unlikely. Although something did happen in Tevinter Nights that might make it possible.

Lavellan: With how the story in DAI ended and what we saw in the end scene of Trespasser, I think they’ll be important in some way.

Fenris: (Wandering Warrior)

Cameos we might see:

Fenris

Isabela

Arishok Sten

Antaam Rassan

Kieren (Morrigan’s son)

Zevran

Vaea

Sebastian Vael

Viago De Riva

Andarateia Cantori

Lavellan

People I don’t think we’ll see or if we do it won’t be for long.

Cassandra (thank gods)

Morrigan

Leliana (sads)

Most of the cast of DAI and the previous games.

Bosses we’re likely to fight.

Solas. He’ll be a mini-boss and maybe one you can talk out of a fight.

FleMythal

Elgar’nan ✅️

Ghilan'nain ✅️

Andruil. She and Ghilan’nain often go together.

Critters/bad guys we’re likely to see.

Bone creatures from the necropolis.

Changed darkspawn/humans from Ghilan'nain’s labs. ✅️

Tentacley sea creatures from Minrathous and other ‘experimented upon by mages’ monsters.

Werewolves may make a comeback.

Antaam.

Venatori. ✅

Fen’harel Fanatics (these are different from Fen’harel agents).

Whatever or whoever the people across the sea are.

Carta dwarves

Titans

Sha-Brytol dwarves

Antaam Rassan

Antaam

Things I think we’re likely to see.

We’re going to see trans/non-binary rep. ✅ I deeply believe this is happening. I will be so sad if I’m wrong.

Sad as I am to say it. Varric is gonna die. The writing has been on the wall in drippy red marker since they fired his writer. I hate this, personally. I grew up listening to Brian Bloom (Varric’s VA) and he’s just one of my absolute favourites. But I don’t think Varric is gonna make it.

The how? I think, narratively, they’ll do it in a way that hurts Solas a very great deal. In DAI, Varric is one of the few people that Solas listens to. Apologizes to and actually talks to with a sense of respect in his tone that he rarely does with anyone else. Given events in the comic The Missing where Solas saves Varric several times… yeah. ✅️

If I were writing it? It would be an angsty as fuck scene where either something Solas does accidentally kills Varric in a friendly fire isn’t friendly sort of situation or that Solas can’t get there in time to save one of the few people he actually probably considers a friend.

So, the pain of Varric’s death will be what in the writing/editing trade we call a pinch-point for Solas’s character arc. How the player decides what happens will likely be one of those crucial choices matters points that will turn Solas down a darker path or possibly toward a redemption arc.

Flemythal isn’t dead. I’ve talked before about how she is not the happy fluffy bunny version of a mother goddess. Sure, she might be a mother goddess. But she’s the type that reminds us that mother nature is often more red in tooth and claw than nurturing.

And the lady is bent. Bent on revenge. Bent on using people to get her revenge. Just… if she ever was the good and kind person that Solas remembers? She definitely isn’t anymore.

I have a feeling given one of the stories in Tevinter Nights that FleMythal has infected Solas (vs sharing her power in a simple power up to help him save people move) with the dragon soul. Which could have been part of Mythal's soul even before the dragon had it, if some theories are correct. There’s been a lot of imagery and description of a dreadwolf like creature that is half lupine, half dragon. So, something is going on there.

And honestly, I think that’s going to be Solas’s breaking point with mommy dearest. (Please, please don’t let them have been lovers, that will squick me out so fucking bad.)

“Betrayal is always worse.” Is one of Solas’s really heartfelt lines in DAI. If I’m right, and FleMythal somehow manipulated that dragon soul she got from Kieren (talk about fucked up action right there) so that it’s gonna change Solas into a half dragon half wolf demon thing… welp.

I think FleMythal will find that Solas has a bit more backbone than he ever had in the past. He’s not alone now. He knows he’s not alone. He’s got friends. He’s got someone who deeply loves him in a romanced Solavellan playthrough. I don’t think Solas is going to be very happy with his dearest ‘best of them’ Mythal.

Best of them? Yeah. It doesn’t mean she was actually good.

So Mythal isn’t dead. I think she’s likely to be one of if not the BBEG along with whoever that voice was at the end of the teaser. My money is on Troy Baker ❌️for the VA and I’m really curious if I’m right. I’m thinking that’s probably Elgar’nan. God of Vengeance. Perhaps Mythal and Elgar’nan patch up whatever divine argument they’ve been having via celestial couples therapy or something. Who knows.

I think we’re going to see a split path depending on the choices of the player for Solas. Depending on our choices, he could go really dark, or he could have a redemption arc. Patrick Weekes tweeted to me that ‘there’s a possibility of a happy ending for Solavellan’ so I still have hope. I trust Weekes to write a satisfying conclusion to the Solavellan Romance. (I just don’t trust Bioware as far as I can throw them.) Weekes was the lead writer on this game, so I think it’s a good possibility that that’s how it’s going to be structured.

I think the game will very possibly be a multi-act structure like DAI. The first act is possibly going to be like the Hinterlands leading up to Coryphyfish blowing the hell out of Haven. I think the veil coming down is going to either be what starts off the game ✅ (like the explosion of the conclave in DAI) or will be the final ending situation of Act 1. Again. Player choices will likely affect this to some extent.

But y’all? That veil is coming down. ✅ And yes. I’m aware of that silly new name for the game. I don’t like it. (That ‘the’ was a mistake. Veilguard by itself would’ve been much better linguistically.) But if you’ve been following my ramblings about Dragon Age for a while, y’all will know I have issues with their linguistic usage and editing already.

Dumped Drunk and Dalishious did a fantastic piece on her blog about the veil. It’s here if you haven’t read it. Firstly, the veil was never meant to exist in THEDAS in the first place. If you deep dive the lore (and trust me, I really have. A LOT.) It’s obvious that the veil has been the cause of more problems than it has fixed. It’s been slowly killing magic in THEDAS since its creation. It has to come down. It’s also as holey a granny’s doilies anyway. Solas taking it down in a controlled fashion is very likely going to prevent far more deaths than if it keeps just falling apart piecemeal like it’s been doing forever. It’s unfixable and it really really needs to go. ✅

So once that veil drops… I don’t think it’s going to be as horrific as everyone has been bellyaching about forever. Solas’s often misquoted and wildly overblown lines from Trespasser (seriously do y’all even know what the word genocide means? You make me doubt.) are very likely a red herring at best. People are being willingly misled. ✅ I can’t really blame y’all.

Weekes is an absolute Master at playing people’s expectations and assumptions off of their preconceived notions, then throwing a bomb of ‘oops you were all wrong and it was right in front of you the entire time’. They’ve even said they really love to write things like that. I want to write as well as Weekes does when I grow up.

Humans existed before the veil. Why wouldn’t they afterward? Given some of the lore, Qunari also existed before the veil. Why wouldn’t they continue to? Will there be chaos? Yup. ✅ But change is often painful. And if anything needs change it’s the world of THEDAS. (Both for story reasons and for gameplay reasons.)

One of the changes I think we’re likely to see is the implosion of the Chantry. (I am absolutely hoping for this. I’m not a fan of organized religion on a grand scale like that and the Chantry has soooooo damned many skeletons in its closets and atrocities under its belt that I will absolutely celebrate when it burns to the ground.)

Which will happen if it comes out that Solas put up the veil in the first place and took it down too. The Chantry either outright claims or strongly insinuates that the maker put up the veil. It’s the cornerstone of their entire faith. Also, in the story Genetivi Dies in the End in Tevinter Nights, Genetivi is absolutely wrecked by the discovery that everything he’s ever written as a travelling Chantry Scholar has been a lie. The Chantry is going down.

So, there’s gonna be some chaos there. And that’s not going to be Solas’s fault because that veil is coming down anyway.

And can you imagine the absolutely hilarious chaos that’s gonna happen when word leaks that an elven god-mage was the one who is technically the ‘maker’ by Chantry doctrine? With all the horrific racism and sheer awfulness the Chantry has done to elves over the centuries? I’m popping popcorn.

I think we’re gonna see Felassan again. ✅️ Cause that elf isn’t dead. And no, Solas didn’t kill him. Please trust me, I’ve combed through all the lore, I’ve read The Masked Empire where it supposedly happened several times, and there is not a shred of actual proof that Solas was the one who did the deed. It’s a Weekes misdirection again. They've got the nickname Tricksy Weekes for a reason.

The actual facts about the 'murder'.

It was someone Felassan worked for.

Someone he knew.

Someone who he knew wouldn't listen to his reasoning. (Solas has been shown to actually listen to his friends and let them change his mind.)

Someone who could very likely have been female because Felassan likens the murderer to Brialla.

It was someone who could fade-walk or move in the fade.

Mythal can do that.

A Somniari/Dreamer can also fade-walk.

Probably most of the still extant Elvhenan can do it (which there were quite a few of in Mythal’s temple).

And we know from DA2 that at least one modern born Somniari/Dreamer exists in the world.

Point being, there’s no actual ‘Solas killed Felassan’ spelled out anywhere. No, not even in Cole's lines in Trespasser. Those lines only indicate that Solas knows about Felassan’s ‘death’ and that he’s sad about it. Cole talks in riddles and references to modern TV shows all the time. I have no idea why people take him even remotely literally.

I have a few theories about this.

IF Felassan’s spirit actually was killed in the fade (possible) his body wasn’t. His body would’ve been just lying there in the woods breathing like any other Somniari. Possibly made tranquil (which we know can be reversed).

What if Solas lost his original body in putting up the Veil?

What if he had a deal with Felassan or maybe came to Felassan to help him get back to his body after the attack and Felassan decided he was done and wanted to move on?

They're said to be friends. Never said to be employer/employee.

If Solas was awake and in the fade and sensed an attack on Felassan, he'd certainly have gone to help.

What if he gave his body to Solas?

Felassan's 'death' chronologically lines up to when Solas 'woke up'.

Felassan has purple eyes. So does Solas.

Felassan has fade-green magic. So does Solas.

Felassan is incredibly powerful. Stares at Solas.

Felassan knows far more about Fen'harel than even a scholar would.

Felassan knew far more about Eluvians, ancient Elvhenan, and The Forgotten Ones (Imshael is a Forgotten One) than anyone would reasonably expect any elf to know.

Felassan let Imshael see into his head about what was coming in the future. Which Imshael almost got off on. Imshael loves destruction and chaos.

I can make a list as long as my arm on similarities there. So, either Solas didn’t kill Felassan and the old? Felassan will be in the game once the veil falls, or it will be revealed that Solas has actually been wearing a (voluntary because a soul cannot take a body involuntarily) Felassan suit the entire time.

Probably blew some minds there, huh?

So given that Weekes has said that if Felassan was a popular enough character they would consider bringing him back… I think it’s likely we’ll see something to do with him again.

Also? The sheer hilarity factor of elves who do not want magic (Fenris anyone?) getting magic returned to them is going to be sweet.

I think we’ll see blood magic as a much bigger mechanic than in previous games. (And I hope they did some work on it to make it make more sense this time.) The game is going to have a lot of Tevinter content. Blood magic is a big deal there. Ergo… it’s likely.

Given some of the things that happened in Tevinter Nights, which honestly really feels like a teaser book to DA4 (I really hate the Veilguard name) I think it’s likely that we’ll see the Templars again. They’ve been in every game and book so far. I doubt they’d get rid of the useless bastards in this one.

Given some of the things in Tevinter Nights, I think it’s possible we’ll see just as many puzzles as we did in DAI, if not more. I’m hoping for more. I do love puzzles in these kinds of games.

I believe it’s highly possible that whoever drank from the Well is going to be completely fucked. Especially, if they follow a ‘kill Solas’ route. Remember who the well binds you to in Trespasser? Bingo.

I think it’s very likely that someone close to the main character is going to be a dual agent of Fen’harel. And it will not be someone we expect. We’re all gonna be side eyeing the mages after the last three games. But what if it’s a warrior or rogue who hides their magic? There was at least one character that completely hid their magic in Tevinter Nights.

We’re going to see more of the Evanuris and The Nameless/Forgotten ones. I base that on Imshael being in DAI and in Masked Empire and some of the dialogue between Felassan and Imshael.

Titans. We’re going to see the titans waking up and being royally pissed off. This is going to cause so much chaos for the dwarves. Who will also regain magic and a kinda creepy hive-mind thing, too. Again. That’s not going to be Solas’s fault.

We’ll have at least one Gala event. Very possibly in Minrathous or Vyrantium. Hopefully with better clothing.

Finally, for things I think likely… The Grand Necropolis in Nevarra is gonna burn. People seem to forget that Solas doesn’t just fight for the freedom of the Elves. He fights for the freedom of spirits too.

In case you haven’t read it… the Nevarrans imprison spirits in the corpses of their dead using mages called the Mortalitasi. I really don’t think that is going to sit well with Solas. In fact, I know it doesn’t. It’s spelled out in Tevinter Nights.

I think it’s probably going to be a quest line for the main character to go and save the necropolis or let it burn to free the spirits. This, of course, will be one of the choices that matter and likely another pinch point on whether Solas goes dark or gets a redemption arc. It will also deeply affect Nevarran politics and the way the country is run. The Mortalitasi basically rule the monarchs of Nevarra sooooo. It’s gonna cause chaos there too.

We’ll obviously see a lot of chaos with the Qunari. Their culture is splintering already. The Antaam have decided to go off the rails and attack anything and everything. Maybe the Ben-Hassrath will be able to rein that in. Maybe not. I don’t have very many predictions on the Qunari to be honest. They’re at war with Tevinter at the end of Tevinter Nights so that war will figure heavily in the game, most likely. But how that’s going to play out I haven’t a clue.

Some mechanics I think we might see.

Fade-touched weaponry that can stop mages.

Elemental interactions. (IE: Magic lightning x water = lots of zap)

Magically treated arrows. ✅️

More magical bombs and poison effects. (I might be just wishfully dreaming there because one of the things I miss from DAO is the poisons and traps mechanics. They felt like an afterthought in DA2 and DAI. I want to be able to make cool traps and set up ambushes again.) But there was that story with Dorian in Tevinter Nights where several of those things were used, so maybe? It would be cool.

I think it’s likely that we’ll see the Despair Demon from Tevinter Nights. And I’m still so mad that they fired the writer of that story. It’s one of my favourites.

Some things that are very possible? But I’m not sure of and could just be wishful thinking.

I think we might see Abelas again. (Abelas romance? Pretty please? ❌😭) His story does have one of those endings that kills him so it’s possibly just wishful thinking. But they brought Leliana back for DAI, so I don’t see why they couldn’t with Abelas too. And also, I have a voice kink and love his VA Matthew Gravelle.

We might see non-linear storytelling. I kind of hope we do because I love non-linear storytelling. Perhaps one storyline will be Arlathan (through dreams or time travel perhaps?) and the fall of it so we finally get some answers to all of this lore. (Please let us get some answers!)

We may see some problems from a rather irrational faction of people who say they’re working for Solas but are using methods he would never approve of. They may be sort of like the Venatori in the last game. Though I do think it’s likely we might have to fight a few more of the Venatori too. ✅ They’re still out there having really messed up rituals and stuff to destroy things.

I think it’s possible given a few clues in the lore and in Tevinter Nights that we’re either going to see not just a double blight (regular darkspawn and red lyrium darkspawn) but a triple blight with the green/yellow lyrium found in Ghilan'nain’s labs. Remember that Ramesh only destroyed one of them. There are eleven more. I think that’s going to very possibly be a big part of this game.

Settings/Levels/Areas I think likely.

So, we already know that the game will be taking place in the north of THEDAS. That’s a no brainer after the map reveal in the teaser.

But where exactly will they take us?

In Tevinter, I think it’s very possible we’ll see Minrathous ✅ and Vyrantium. We may see the Black Divine’s/Archon’s palace.

We’ll see Arlathan Forest. ✅ That I’m almost certain of. We’ll probably also see ancient Arlathan somehow. (Dreams or barely used time-travel mechanic from DAI?)

We’re going to be spending a lot of time in the deep roads and even farther below the deep roads. And dear developers please let me have some answers to all this lore.

We may spend some time inside a Titan again.

Pre-veil drop, we may spend some time in the fade. I actually hope that with the veil dropping we get to rescue whoever got left behind in DAI. That would make my heart so happy.

We’re likely to see the crossroads at least a little bit.

Antiva! Gods I’m looking forward to seeing Antiva.

Anderfels/Weisshaupt. We have no idea at the end of DAI or Tevinter Nights or Last Flight what the hell is going on up there, so I think we’ll have to find out in the game. Also… more chaos that is most definitely not Solas’s fault.

Rivain?

I think we’ll see the Golden City. And the Black City. Which is likely the same place.

And I don’t think it’s up in the sky. I think it’s deep underground below the deep roads.

Ships! I think we’re going to see some more ships. That’s based on a story in Tevinter nights and some of the splash art. But gods I really want more ships. Especially in a place like Minrathous or Antiva for fuck’s sake!

I think we might see some underwater levels for various reasons. And I hope we do.

These next things are honestly my hopes and dreams that would make me so happy, but I have little to back them up with as far as lore or books/comics and supplementary materials.

Polyamory options. PLEASE give me polyam romance options. BG3 did it. It’s 2024 and only 30% of dating people are monogamous. Get with the times! ❌️

I want CC body sliders so bad. ✅ Give me the ability to make a fat player character please! Not just because a lot of gamers tend to be on the heavier side but honestly? Because a fat adventurer is going to be able to go farther than any skinny twig. Real strong men/women/enbies do not look like gym bunnies and models. They have a good layer of fat over that muscle for stability. Guess what fat is? It’s energy storage. A fat adventurer is going to be able to survive longer than a twig. I could go on… but come on Bioware. Be brave. Let me have a fat adventurer. ✅️

Decent. Fucking. Hair. ✅ Please let the CC have decent hair options. LONG hair options! Let me have my long haired elfy prince dude!

Isabela cameo. She’s one of my favourite DA2 characters and some of the early splash art makes me hopeful we’ll see her again. ✅️

I’m hoping for DAO origin style stories for the Main Player Character. But ideally? We’d have something like BG3 where we could play one of a number of origin stories or make our own blank slate character. ❌ Given the gossip going around the gaming community I’m thinking this is unlikely, but damn do I want it.

Useful. Mounts. Please let us have actually useful mounts. And GRIFFONS. ✅ Give me flying mounts you cowards!

Prosthetic using characters. ✅ Bioware has the worst track record when it comes to ableism, but gods please. They’ve got it set up perfectly with Inky losing their arm. There’s a prosthetic leg user in Tevinter Nights. PLEASE LET ME HAVE PROSTHETIC USING CHARACTERS.

Better Crafting Options. The crafting was okay in DAI. Especially if you mod it in so you can buy the stuff to do so easier (I really hate killing dragons but it’s the best crafting material!). But it also often felt more like an afterthought?

Better. Clothes. Seriously. Give me some razzle dazzle with the clothing. ESPECIALLY since we’re going to Tevinter where how you dress is absolutely important!

I know this is sniffing the genie smoke here, but could we have actually attractive armour options? With BRIGHT colours? Research shows that a lot of historical armour was 1. Gorgeous and well fitting. 2. Brightly painted! Let me have bright colours! (And please not the yellow plaid. Ugh.)

I hope for more gardening options in whatever base we end up using. I loved the gardening options in DAI, but they weren’t big enough for my plant loving heart.

I really want to see Solas in flying Wolfie form. We see him like that in Tevinter Nights. So, I really hope we get to see him like that in game.

Finally… and I know I’m high on my own hopes here… I really hope we get the gifting options back. Completely unattached to approval is fine. I just want to be able to find the perfect gift for my companions like I do in real life with my friends. It brings me so much joy.

Things they’re likely to fuck up.

Sadly, I think there’s some things Bioware is very likely to fuck up. This could just be me being too pessimistic, but they’ve screwed these things up throughout the entire series and to my knowledge they didn’t hire any diversity consultants in the making of DA4 sooooo…

Ableism. Bioware has a terrible record when it comes to ableism. ✅ (the demon design is going to cause visual strain and possibly bad effects for epileptic gamers).

White-washing. The North of THEDAS is like the South of Earth. If they make most of the people there have light skin I will probably boycott the fuck out of Bioware for the rest of my life. ✅️

No fat character ability in CC.

Really fucked up hair options. Seriously Bioware. It’s bad.

And I think they’re going to be in trouble when it comes to the Lords of Fortune. Look. I love the idea of the class and I even love how a lot of them are described in the books. But it’s absolutely glomming onto the stereotype of the Romani, and I don’t think that’s going to go over well at all. It won’t for me with my Romani heritage, and it really shouldn’t for anyone. Cause you know what that stereotypical usage is? It’s Racism. Bioware also doesn’t have the best track record regarding racism either.

As more thoughts come to me I’ll either append stuff to this post or do others (probably the latter.)

And here are my links if you want to toss me a buck or two as a tip. I'm recovering from a pulmonary embolism (do not recommend) and every penny helps because I'm the sole income for my family.

And if you're in Canada like me you can use Interac. [email protected].

As always, thanks for reading my rambles!

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whoistartaglia · 2 years ago

Note

hello!! I'm sorry if this is awkward, this is my first time doing this so I'm not sure really how to ask!😭 could you do albedo, tighnari, and ayato with an s/o who has like a medical condition that they kinda like faint easily? I'm sorry if that sounds weird I have pots😭 I apologize if I wrote anything wrong, please lmk!<3

fainter, fainter.

this request has been sitting in my inbox forever, thanks for sending it in! i based some of this on my own experiences fainting, and i hope i didn’t get anything too wrong about it from an actual medical standpoint.

includes: albedo, tighnari, ayato.

warnings: fainting, gender neutral reader.

albedo.

you were used to the dizziness; the way your vision filled with black spots until it was completely gone. it was an entirely unpleasant feeling, but one you had unwillingly grown accustomed to.

what you weren’t accustomed to was the concerned face looking down at you when you came to. your eyes widened with surprise, until you realized it was just your boyfriend.

“albedo?” you asked.

“yeah, it’s me,” albedo responded.

you nodded and slowly sat up.

“are you— okay?” albedo asked once a couple seconds had ticked by.

you again nodded. “it’s… yeah. i’m okay.”

from the look on his face, it was evident your boyfriend didn’t believe you, but didn’t press the issue. “do you know why it happens?”

“not really,” you replied. “but i’m okay, really.”

several more beats of silence passed, in which albedo’s brow grew increasingly more creased. no doubt he was analyzing what just happened— and now maybe to help you in the future. you were afraid he might go all scientific on you, explaining his hypothesis of why this happened and all that, but he only wordlessly stood up and stuck out his hand to help you up.

“the next time, i’ll catch you,” he said. a promise, an oath, a vow: from him, to you.

tighnari.

when you fainted in the avidya forest without a traveling companion in sight, you thanked all your gods that it was tighnari who found you.

at least, you did after that fact. when you first awoke to an unfamiliar man in an unfamiliar location, you almost… well. tighnari still teased you about how you threatened to burn him and his abode to the ground. but how were you supposed to know this “tighnari” as he introduced himself wasn’t some malevolent creature? (when you asked him that, he only responded, “because i saved you,” which still didn’t put your nerves at ease).

but after a time, you grew closer. especially after you fainted (again) and he brought you back to his place (again). it was an uneasy alliance at first, with him promising to help prevent your fainting spells and you promising to help him as he watched over the forest.

and while tighnari still hasn’t found the cure to your fainting spells, he did help you recover from them quicker. his knowledge of flora and fauna certainly helped in that regard. you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t like your new life here. and if you maybe fainted because of how good tighnari looked…

well, no one could really blame you.

ayato.

most people met ayato, the current head of the kamisato clan, with a formal introduction. you met ayato by, quite literally, falling for him. in his arms, to be exact.

it was shortly after that when you actually started dating ayato. it was certainly strange at first, especially because you fainted again on your second date, but you were both used it now. or, at least, as used to it as you could be. you were still searching for a potential solution to your fainting spells, and ayato was more than willing to help you.

whenever you did find yourself growing colder, that ringing in your ears growing louder, ayato could be right next to you, preparing to catch you again. and although he was never bothered by the whole ordeal, you couldn’t help but feel bad.

“don’t you get tired of it?” you asked one evening. it’d been some time since you last fainted.

“tired of what, dear?”

“of… me,” you responded. at his confused look, you clarified, “i mean, me fainting.”

“no.” he responded automatically. “i don’t mind.”

“promise?” you asked, unconvinced.

ayato gave you a look, as if to say really? he wantd you to get better, of course he did. ayato would do anything to help you. anything. so an almost boyish smile broke out on his face.

“yes. i promise.”

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hotshotsxyz · 2 years ago

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thirteen threads

(6x12 companion) (1.7k words) (buddie adjacent) in which buck begins to identify the many things he feels following his near death experience. spoilers for 6x12

It’s in Eddie’s kitchen that Buck begins to unravel the tangled web of emotions that began weaving itself between his ribs the moment he was struck by lightning.

The feeling he finds there is relief. It’s shaped a little bit like the couch he’d fallen asleep on, and a little bit like the beer in Eddie’s fridge. Buck draws it in with every breath, and lets himself feel it on every exhale. There’s more, much more that he needs to examine, but bathed in the soft glow of the living room lamps and blanketed by the comfortable silence between them, Buck decides that for a moment, it’s alright to feel just one thing.

Eddie’s phone buzzes on the table, immediately drawing Buck’s eye. He’s surprised to see his sister’s name, but only because it took her this long. Eddie huffs a soft laugh, picks up the phone and stands.

“Buck’s fine,” he says, as soon as the call connects.

Buck can hear Maddie’s voice, but he can’t make out her words.

“He’s asleep on my couch.” Eddie shoots a wink in Buck’s direction.

Buck ducks his head and smiles.

Eddie hums noncommittally at whatever Maddie says next. “Just a little overwhelmed, I think. Give him some time.”

A few moments pass, and Eddie’s expression shifts minutely.

“I promise,” he says, solemn and soft. After another moment, he relaxes. “Goodnight Maddie,” he says. “I’ll tell him.”

Eddie hangs up the phone and returns to the table.

“I maybe should’ve told her where I was going,” Buck says with a wry smile.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, eyes sparkling the way they do when he thinks something is funny.

“Not gonna ask me why I didn’t?”

Eddie shrugs.

Buck scrubs a hand through his hair. “I guess you already know,” he says.

Overwhelmed. That’s the second feeling he finds.

…

Exhaustion, Buck discovers when he wakes on Eddie’s couch in the morning, is the third. It’s easier to unravel than the others, clearly visible from its point of origin all the way to the home it’s made in him. Physically and emotionally, Buck is tired.

It’s not a new feeling, not by a long shot. It’s a little like an old friend, actually, comforting in its familiarity. Exhaustion is temporary. Exhaustion tells him that he’s still healing, that he won’t be stuck in his own head forever.

Buck sends Bobby a quick text, one that receives a response almost immediately. He wonders for a moment what woke him, but doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

He hears Christopher before he sees him, and immediately a smile stretches across his face. Buck sits up, and within seconds has an armful of the best kid in the universe.

“Hey, kid,” he says, voice still raspy with sleep.

“Hey, Buck,” Christopher replies. He pulls back and sits on the coffee table. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Buck says. “I missed you!” He ruffles Christopher’s hair.

Christopher narrows his eyes, and for a moment, he looks exactly like Eddie. “You’re lucky I just woke up,” he says, patting his hair back down.

A bright peal of laughter slips from Buck’s lips.

In this moment, Buck feels warm.

…

On the way to his appointment, Maddie calls. Buck feels a flash of frustration, followed in an instant by guilt. The two intertwine, and settle somewhere above his diaphragm.

“Hi Maddie,” he answers.

“Hey Buck,” she says. Her voice, contained by his Jeep’s speakers, sounds small.

The guilt in his chest grows and squirms.

“Are you on your way to the doctor?” Maddie asks.

Buck swallows against the inexplicable urge to snap and slows to a stop as he reaches a red light. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yep,” he answers, trying not to let any irritation bleed into his voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“Maddie, I’m fine,” Buck says, just a little too quickly. He can practically hear the frown on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. “I really am okay. I just…”

Buck tries to follow the frustration to its origin, tries to find the words to explain why he can’t embrace her questions and worry with the same enthusiasm he’d had for Christopher and comes up empty.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Maddie says gently. “I know this is hard.”

An ugly part of Buck wants to snap, no, no you don’t know, but Buck pushes it ruthlessly down. “I think I just need some time,” he says instead.

“Okay,” Maddie says. “Just… don’t let yourself spiral alone. You know I’m here for you, whether you want me to be or not.”

Unexpectedly, Buck is hit with a flood of gratitude. “I know,” he says softly. “I know I’m not alone.”

He’s surprised to hear himself say it, and even more surprised to find he means it. Countless emotions lay tangled in his chest, but loneliness is not among them.

…

The waiting room is quiet and sterile. Buck’s far from the only person sitting in it, but aside from the occasional clearing of a throat, no one makes a noise. It’s oppressive in a way the quiet hadn’t been the night before, and Buck feels stuck in it, choked by it.

Time seems to move like molasses as Buck watches the interminable jerking motions of the second hand on the clock before him. Impatience, he thinks, is what he’s feeling now.

Impatience is as familiar to Buck as exhaustion, and he’d half expected it to be the final knot he needed to unravel in order to begin processing, as Eddie put it. Maybe he’s grown, though, because it only really feels like a peripheral piece of the mess in his chest.

A nurse calls his name, and it seems to evaporate. He’s sure it’ll come back when he finds out what test is next, but for now, there’s one less loose end to strangle him.

…

At first, when Dr. Salazar asks how he’s feeling, Buck tells her what he knows to be true.

“I’m getting my strength back,” he says, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

When it does, it’s not the one he’s expecting. The newest feeling in his chest, draped delicately over the others, is disbelief.

“Really?” he asks when Dr. Salazar says he can return to work. He kind of wants to prod her, to remind her what it is he does for a living. It’s not like he’ll be going back to a pile of paperwork.

Well, actually he will, but that’s not really the point.

“Do you want a second opinion?” she asks, and the thing is, Buck kind of does.

Not because he doesn’t trust Dr. Salazar, he does, but because he’s all too familiar with the heartbreak of getting the all clear and having it pulled away at the last second.

Buck remembers the pain in his leg that he would’ve sworn was just a pulled muscle and finally puts a name to the feeling that’s been driving his anger every time someone asks if he’s okay.

Dread. The feeling that something terrible is still around the corner. That the universe is holding its breath, waiting for Buck to let his guard down.

The only constant Buck’s ever really had is change, so when he asks, he half expects Dr. Salazar to say that everyone comes out the other side different. Instead, she tells him, in a way that makes Buck think of Bobby more than anyone else, that everyone finds their own way back. He thinks he understands why Eddie recommended her.

“Thank you,” Buck says finally. “I think that helps.”

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Salazar says with a nod. “And Mr. Buckley– if you find yourself struggling with this experience more than you expect to, I have resources I’d be happy to share with you. It’s not unusual to have mixed feelings in a situation like this.”

Buck ducks his head and smiles. “Someone else said the same thing. He, uh– he said the best thing I could do is let myself feel them all.”

Dr. Salazar smiles. “He sounds like a smart man,” she says.

“He is,” Buck agrees.

…

Buck doesn’t call Maddie to tell her the good news. He doesn’t call Bobby or Eddie either. He doesn’t call Hen, and he doesn’t call Chim. Instead, he walks until he finds himself on a bench in front of a small pond.

If it weren’t for the fountain in the middle, the water would be placid, undisturbed by wind or rain on this sunny day. Buck knows better than to think that nothing bad can happen on a beautiful day, but this one in particular feels safe. He wonders if that’s a feeling he can trust.

As he watches the ducks swim and occasionally dive, Buck finds himself again poking at the mess of emotions in his chest.

There was a time when he’d have done anything to hear that he was cleared to work. His job is who he is. Hell, he’d said as much to evil-him in his coma dream. So there should be happiness, somewhere in that tangled web. Excitement, maybe. As much as he digs, though, Buck can’t find it.

Relief.

Overwhelm.

Exhaustion.

Warmth.

Frustration.

Guilt.

Irritation.

Gratefulness.

Disbelief.

Impatience.

Anger.

Dread.

Buck stands from the bench and turns his back to the lake. There’s something left, something that tangles with everything else and constricts his chest when he tries to breathe too deeply. He looks up at the sky, and instead of clear azure, he sees dark clouds and rain.

Cold water pools in the divots of his skin, and he hears himself volunteer for a job he knows is going to kill him. His vision goes white, and all that remains is pain.

Buck blinks and the sky is blue.

The final piece of the puzzle comes loose, a corner piece laid before him that is mocking in its simplicity.

Fear.

Buck is terrified.

#late to the party but still here!#911 #911 spoilers #911fic #911 fic #evan buckley #buddie #fic #abbie writes #tags in a sec etc #userceecee

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what-gs-watching · 11 months ago

Text

“Well…maybe I’ll save you.”

I’M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING.

Sorry.

I’m not crying, you’re crying.

That’s not much better, is it.

I just finished The Giggle and I’m sobbing over the fact that 10 finally gets everything he was chasing and I am clearly unwell. I knew this episode was going to break me but I didn’t realize how far they were going to push us over the cliff. Like. You don’t get this in Doctor Who, not ever. That’s almost the appeal of it, sometimes.

But Russell T Davies just ripped out everyone’s heart in the best possible way. I really can’t.

Blorp. Okay.

The thing is….the thing is - I think everybody needed that. How satisfying must this be for David Tennant? And Catherine Tate? How are they not fit to bursting right now? That was so beautiful, gang. And they must be so proud.

But I’m gonna focus. Also, didn’t I say catharsis? Jesus christ, you can’t get more than that. I’m pretty sure they hit the fucking limit on catharsis. Wow. I’m a mess.

Focusing, though: wherein the Doctor and Donna have to say humanity from their own terrible base instincts because the Toymaker loves a good game.

So we open on Soho in 1925 (which, is anyone else wondering where A.Z. Fell & Co is in relationship to the street they’re showing? No? Just me? Okay cool) and we’re taken into a creepy toy shop where we meet Neil Patrick Harris doing a super weird German accent and being a general creep. He sells a dummy to a man who says he needs it for his boss, who is around the corner working on inventing the concept of television broadcasting for the very first time.

They pop the head off the dummy and leave it in a setup surrounded by a ton of lightbulbs and they go into another room to test it all out - and it works. But the heat from the bulbs is hot, too hot, which is why they needed an object, not an actual person. But of course, the creepy toyseller was obviously up to no good, and as the broadcast continues, the dummy head melts and lets out a terrible little giggle. Clearly, we’re in trouble.

Back in the present, the Doctor and Donna are in the streets of London trying to figure out what’s happening. Some guy argues with 14 who tries to stop him from attacking a car, saying that his taxes pay for the street but he doesn’t drive and he has the right to do whatever he wants with the roadway, thank you. Perfectly sound logic, and the guy is belligerent, saying two days ago everyone in the world decided they were right and wouldn’t listen to reason. So that’s exciting.

Soon enough, UNIT finds them and they’re told to get Wilf somewhere safe while the Doctor and Donna follow them to headquarters. Where we finally get our eyes on Kate Lethbridge-Stewart who I absolutely love, she’s the “bitches get shit done” Tina Fey gif come to LIFE. Bitch will always be the new black, and that’s Kate, and exactly how she runs UNIT, loading it full of equally brilliant women, including Shirley who we’d met when dealing with The Meep, and Melanie, who was a companion to the 6th Doctor,

Who run the world? GIRLS.

Anyway, we get into explanation mode - two days ago there was a spike in aggression worldwide, the same spike across the board. It’s affecting everyone, even the people in government, but UNIT has a fun device that helps keep everyone wearing one sane. And Kate decides she’s going to demonstrate how fucked up the situation is - she asks them to take her device offline, so they do.

And she proceeds to spew a bunch of terrible things at the Doctor - how he’s an alien with two hearts that have infiltrated them and can’t be trusted, and then she takes shots at poor Shirley who’s in a goddamn wheelchair and it’s really gross to watch, it’s one of the worst parts of humanity and she tries to avoid having her device turned back on, but they finally subdue her. It’s some serious shit, gang.

They say that the spikes aren’t coming from outside, they’re in everyone’s head, except for Donna, and Melanie, who have spent significant time in the TARDIS. And for extra fun, two days ago a satellite went up that finally connected the entirety of the earth to the internet, and now, everyone has access to a screen.

And of course, Donna is working something out about the spike they’ve found, saying that she spent six months teaching Rose how to play the recorder; she thinks it’s a tune. Melanie sings it out and it strikes with everyone, like they’ve known it for years. And then Shirley finds it, it’s not a tune, it’s the laugh from the dummy. The Doctor figures out that the image has been burnt into television itself, into all the screens everyone is attached to every minute of everyday.

As they’re getting the date of the exact transmission, 14 gives Kate permission to shoot the satellite down, even though it’ll start an international incident. He’s the president of the world, and I love that. Her relief is palpable.

He also has a little moment with Melanie, which is so sweet. I love that whenever he rolls up to someone he hasn’t seen in decades, he always mutters the kindest little “hello.” Just for them. His attention completely focused. It must feel like a sun shining directly on you. I literally have a collection of David Tennant saying “hello” in my mind, ugh it’s so something.

During all of this, Kate is telling Donna she did well working out the spikes, and she offers her a job at UNIT once everything has settled. Pure Donna, she asks how much the salary is, and then counters with DOUBLE the amount and 5 weeks paid vacation which is immediately accepted. BAMF, BAMF, BAMF. Get what’s yours, baby girl.

So much going on. Okay, so they go back to 1925, and 14 is all about what they need to do but Donna wants to hear about Mel because he’s never once mentioned her. He never does, he never talks about them. Rose a bit, yes, but usually no. Not ever. And he reminds her he’s old as hell and he can’t just chat about everyone, but it’s more than that. She tells him he never stops moving, she says “You are staggering along. Maybe that's why your old face came back. You're wearing yourself out” and that’s the crux of the matter, friends. 14 is wonderful, we’re all in love with him, but he’s definitely bleeding out everything. All over the place. And it’s so sad to see him so run down. But, classic 10, he ignores her.

They find the toyshop of course, and the Doctor recognizes the Toymaker. Who immediately starts a game of catch with the Doctor, because he’s a fucking weirdo like that, and 14 looks incredibly determined and also freaked out but Donna puts a stop to it, and the Toymaker disappears.

They follow him deeper into the shop and surprise! They find themselves in a never ending hallway full of doors, and each door just leads to another hallway. Which should be impossible, but we’re told that the Toymaker is only governed by the rules of play, so he can basically do whatever the eff he wants.

Donna gets the story out of him as they wander - the Doctor had once gone into another realm, where he played a game against the Toymaker and apparently won, but he said he made a terrible mistake. Poor kiddo is really raw all of a sudden, he says “I'm always so certain. I'm all sonic and TARDIS and Time Lord. Take that away... Take away the toys... what am I? What am I now?” and then he tells Donna, “I don’t know…if I can save your life this time.”

Scrawny little 14 all exposed and helpless and I told you, he’s bleeding all over the place, and she just tells him, “Well…maybe I’ll save you.”

THEY’RE BEST FRIENDS, and she’s definitely gonna save him, just not in the way he thinks. And it’s so good.

Speeding ahead, they keep wandering through the halls and then they get separated of course and Donna gets attacked by the dummy that was supposed to be the original dummy’s wife and his creepy babies but she beats them obviously, and the Doctor gets taunted by the Toymaker but they find each other eventually.

And then they’re pulled into a room with a little stage where the Toymaker puts on a puppet show about exactly what has happened to the Doctor’s companions since he traveled with Donna. And it’s so sad to listen to him try to justify everyone’s fate - Amy died of old age, but in a time and place she was never meant to. Clara was killed by a bird but technically saved in her last moments of life. Bill was turned into a cyberman, but her consciousness lived on. No happy endings, for the Doctor and his friends, not ever.

To stop the show, the Doctor challenges the Toymaker to a game. And Donna’s afraid the Toymaker will cheat, but it seems the rules of the game bind his entire existence: the Doctor will either win or lose. So they cut a deck, and the highest card wins. And it’s the Toymaker, with a king.

But the Doctor finds a loophole - he won the first game, the Toymaker one the second game, and that prompts another, the best of three. Which the Toymaker accepts, but he wants that game to be played back in the present.

Meanwhile at UNIT headquarters they’re shooting down the new satellite, and the Doctor and Donna appear to try and figure out a way to force the Toymaker out of the universe they way he’d come, but it’s too late. 14 is explaining something and then “Spice Up Your Life” is playing, and I’m sorry but L O L at the entire dance scene with NPH that unfolds. It’s hilarious, and creepy, and it definitely goes on too long, but I’ll allow a little pageantry. He turns UNIT’s bullets into flower petals and it’s a little terrifying, how much power he possesses and that’s the point. And then as soon as he’s arrived, he disappears again.

Just kidding though, the Toymaker is out on the platform where the beam they used to take down the satellite is still set up and ready to roll, and he’s got control of it. So everyone of course rushes out to try and stop him.

The Doctor tries to talk him down, of course. He asks why he’s choosing to be so horrible when he can do so many good things, and the Toymaker reminds him he’s just a vastness that good and bad don’t apply to, only winning and losing. The Doctor tells him he’s a vastness that contains so much more, and then he suggests they take the game away from earth, that they can play across the cosmos.

He says “we can be…celestial” - and I’m dying inside. Is anyone else wondering what Aziraphale’s reaction to that sentence would have been? So many little bits of Good Omens, it’s slightly painful.

Also, I appreciate that the Doctor is always trying to turn enemies into his playmates. 10 did it with the Master, too. It makes sense, he’s always off with humans but why wouldn’t entities that are more in line with what he is, want to travel with him? They always say no. Because y’all are too obsessed with your own drama to recognize what a fucking opportunity that is. Idiots.

So yeah, that doesn’t work and the Toymaker declares that since he played the first two games with different doctors, he wants to play the final game with the next Doctor. AND HE SHOOTS 14 WITH THE GIANT FUCKING LASER.

It’s agonizing. It’s terrible. And Donna and Mel rush to his side as he starts to regenerate, because they don’t want him to be alone. They tell him he’s not dying, and they don’t care who he is, because every version of him is fantastic. And that’s what he needed to hear the first time. Every time, really.

And then he says “It's time. Here we go again. Allons-y!” (squee!) but…nothing happens. So he asks them to pull, yank on his arms, and they’re like ��um’ but they do and THEN:

Out pops 15. And I’m losing my fucking mind.

Here’s the thing, gang. There is one sure fire way to make the new Doctor capture everyone’s heart, and that is apparently to let him interact with 14. Because everything that happens after this is incredible.

15 says “You're me. No, I'm me. I think I'm really, really me. Oh-ho-ho, I am completely me!” and he tells 14 to push, and they’re both like ‘will this work?’ and they’re laughing and they push against each other and they’re two separate entities and it’s amazing.

14 obviously was all done up in his traditional suit (minus the coat) so now suddenly 15 is wearing the dress shirt, and the tie, and their charming little tightie whities, and the CONVERSES! And 14’s still got the pants, the undershirt, the vest, completely barefoot. I’m delighted and crying my eyes out.

So apparently they’ve bi-generated, which is supposed to be a myth and 15 asks Mel what she thinks and she says “I think you’re beautiful” and 14 pipes up, “still beautiful?!” and it’s all so good but the Toymaker is exasperated and then both Doctor’s say “I challenge you to a game” but he doesn’t like that. He’d caused the bi-generation and he doesn’t want to play both of them but he can’t say no.

What follows is the highest stakes game of catch that has literally ever existed. 14 and 15 are ducking and bobbing and weaving and catching and it’s ridiculous but also so filled with tension; whoever drops the ball, loses. David Tennant is a 50-something year old spindly noodle and oh my god he’s just crushing the entire thing, I could watch this all day.

But someone has to lose, and thank god, eventually it’s the Toymaker. They decide their prize is going to be banishing him from existence forever. He gets folded up into a little square of douchebag, shoved in a box, and left to rot in the deepest recesses of UNIT’s storage.

And it’s wonderful! But 14 can’t help but think of all of the people that died. And here is where 15 worms into everyone’s heart for the rest of eternity: he reminds 14 that he can’t save everyone, and then he grabs him into a hug and he says “Come here. I've got you. Yeah? It's OK. I'm here” and he kisses 14’s forehead.

It’s what the Doctor has always needed, but never got. A reminder from himself that what he does matters, that he’s good and he tries and it’s okay when things don’t go perfectly, but he does save people. He deserves acceptance from himself, and if he can’t give it in his own mind, he can get it from someone else who is literally him. It’s fucking beautiful.

They head back to the TARDIS and 14 shows 15 all the bells and whistles and 14 wonders how it’s going to work, the two of them? 15 makes him stop his anxious rambling, tells him “you're thin as a pin, love. You're running on fumes.” He keeps talking, about all of the things they’ve seen and done. The Pandorica, The Time War, losing River and Rose. The fact that Sarah Jane has died. 14 says, “I loved her” and 15 says “I loved her.”

15 reminds him that they haven’t stopped, not for a second. But he’s fine, because 14 had fixed himself. He says “We’re doing rehab out of order.” And it’s true; 15 has taken in everything that Donna has been trying to get 14 to understand, he has the sweetness and the willingness to express his feelings that 14 finally learned, and now he’s putting his foot down, to himself. His old self. He’s telling 14 that he has to stop.

But 14 doesn’t know how, and Donna tells him that he just has to exist, every single day, in and out. Over and over. And that’s the adventure. She says “I've worked out what happened. You changed your face... and then you found me. Do you know why?”

“To come home.”

If you didn’t lose it at that, you might need to examine your inner workings. It’s a punch to the gut. And it’s absolutely true. It’s the one thing the Doctor has never had, but now he can. And the way 14 asks “Do you mean…he flies off?” is so sad and small, and deflating, like he can’t imagine being pried away and made to stop and just be and exist. It’s terrifying for him. And he knows he can’t leave the TARDIS, it would hurt.

15 has an idea though, he thinks they might have a little bit of time, still being governed by a state of play, so he produces a sledge hammer and he hops out of the TARDIS, followed by 14 and Donna.

He wields the hammer and he says “You get a prize, honey. And here is mine!” and he SWINGS against the TARDIS, and out pops another perfect little blue police box (and he runs a hand down the first one, saying “I’m sorry!”). Two TARDIS’s, two doctors.

(I’m also swooning over 15’s use of endearments - love, honey - he’s gonna kill me.)

14 goes in to inspect the new TARDIS, he’s reverent almost, and it’s much the same, but it’s got a jukebox. He wanders back to his own TARDIS and 15 hops into the new one and powers her up and he’s definitely about to leave without a goodbye but 14 bounds back in with Donna to get what they’re owed. Which is hugs and a little sass. 15 says “off you pop, old man” and I love that, but they remind him he’s the older of the two now, so he says “Okay, kid. I love you. Get out!”

15 is full of the love the Doctor never gets to give freely, but he’s ready now, and I’m so excited to watch that unfold. It’s so perfect and beautiful that 14 is the one who gets to feel it first. Baby boy needs so much more, and he’s gonna get it.

And so, off they both go. 15 to his endless adventures, 14 to something even more scary.

The last scene is a dinner at Donna’s, wherein 14 is telling a ridiculous story about using his eyebrows to communicate (Crowley, Crowley, Crowley…) and it’s just banter and it’s so good. We find out that he’s taking Mel on little adventures in the TARDIS, even Rose a time or two. He says “Just can’t turn down my favorite niece” and oh, it’s so lovely. He says “That’s what you are. With my best friend, my brother-in-law, the evil stepmother, and mad auntie Mel.”

The desperate wanderer, a man who has run for thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in a multitude of faces, finally has a family.

Donna tells him he doesn’t have to stay forever, and then she asks him if he misses it out there. And his face, oh y’all his face as he says “The funny thing is, I fought all those battles for all those years... and now I know what for. This. I've never been so happy in my life”, it’s EVERYTHING.

Never, not once, has the Doctor gotten this. Usually, things work out just enough that it barely soothes the pain of what was lost. Never has he won so fully, so completely. Donna restored, and the chance to finally relish what he’s been protecting for so long. And no one deserved it more than 10 and 14.

The Doctor doesn’t have to be all hard edges and fire and war and unrelenting motion. He can be soft and vulnerable and he can accept help and he can love.

And I didn’t even realize I wanted to see that. Doctor Who is like letting yourself believe in a higher power, a little bit. Believing in a species that maybe isn’t beholden to all of the disgusting emotions we have to deal with, he’s strong when we can’t be. He’s strong all the time. But I don’t think I’ve ever connected as much to an arch as I did to this one. We can’t be strong all the time. No one can.

Watching the Doctor stop, and be taken care of for once, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Catharsis, on all sides. For everyone. I needed all of that way more than I’m ever willing to admit.

No matter what’s going on in the real world, at least now, somewhere out there 14 is hanging out at Donna’s house, telling silly stories and helping cook dinner and teaching Rose a bunch of science she should never get her hands on, and that’s satisfying in a way I can’t explain.

Basically, I’m so thankful for Doctor Who. And I can’t wait to see what happens next…

#what g's watching #doctor who 60th anniversary #doctor who #fourteenth doctor #tenth doctor #fifteenth doctor #donna noble #doctor who spoilers #david tennant #the giggle spoilers #ncuti gatwa #catherine tate

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